


The Claim

by Trin303



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: ABO, Alpha John Wick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Continental Hotel (John Wick), F/M, Knotting, Omega Helen Wick, Pre-John Wick (2014), Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trin303/pseuds/Trin303
Summary: There is no line that Omega Helen won't cross to protect her students. So when one is forced to drop out to work for the Russian Mafia, she is ready to go head-to-head with its leader, Alpha Viggo Tarasov, to save him. She soon finds herself in a new world of trouble when Mafia contractor, Alpha John Wick, steps in to place her under his protection....Winston glares at him, “I heard that you, while in the middle of Tarasov’s compound, put a Claim on an Omega that you had never met before. You did so formally, in front of witnesses.”“I did.”“A Claim, Jonathan!” Winston leans forward, “You only have one, you know. One person to put under your protection and you used yours on a stranger!”“Yes.”Winston breathes heavily and John realizes it’s the first time he has ever seen the Manager truly at a loss for words. The older man pinches the bridge of his nose....Possible epilogue to come
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick
Comments: 28
Kudos: 80
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	1. Maple

"The Camorra have Manhattan almost completely under their control.”

One of Viggo’s lieutenants points at the map on the desk. 

“New York is no man’s land.” The other says.

“Wick, you have a positive relationship with Senor D’Antonio, do you not?” Viggo Tarasov asks

John Wick shrugs from the bookcase he was propped against. The three chairs were already taken up by Viggo’s council. “I know him. We get on well enough but I don’t think he’ll back down from this. Not willingly.”

“We can use force, if need be.”

“Against the Camorra? Come on, Viggo.” Avi shakes his head, “Let’s not start a war where it can be avoided.”

The Beta has a point, John thinks, but Viggo is a stubborn SOB. An old school Alpha who had never learned that displays of strength were not the only thing an Alpha was capable of.

Another of Viggo’s beta’s speaks up but John finds himself unable to listen. He inhales and is overwhelmed by a sweet smell. He can taste it on his tongue. Like maple.

Like an Omega.

He glances around the table. Viggo’s own Omega is not allowed in his place of work. No Omega’s were, given how many Alpha’s he employed. It wasn’t worth the risks. 

If anyone else has noticed the scent, they had not reacted.

“What do you think, Mister Wick?” John looks up sharply as Viggo continues to talk, “We will offer them a choice. They can choose to help us or they can choose war.”

The scent is moving, coming closer.

“Senor D’Antonio does not respond well to threats. Masked, or otherwise.” 

John finds himself swallowing. He’s smelled Omega’s before but never one like this. They typically smelled too sweet. Like cotton candy. Almost putrid to his nose but oh, this… this he wanted to lap up. To dive in, tongue first and  _ devour. _

His pants seem, suddenly, too tight and he notices, finally, the others reacting to the new smell. 

Viggo frowns, mid-sentence as he looks up towards the door. It swings open, hitting the wall with a solid bang, and a petite little Omega storms in glaring at Tarasov.

“Mister Tarasov, sir, I’m sorry, she pushed her way in!” The guard says, flushed as he catches up.

“An Omega pushed her way in?” Viggo says, “Perhaps it is time I hire new guards.”

“Are you Viggo Tarasov?” The Omega asks, pink cheeks flushed.

“I am. Who might you be?”

“My name is Helen Kingston. I’m Peter Ilichov’s teacher.”

“Who?” Viggo blinks.

“Peter Ilichov.”

“One of your new staff,” Wick speaks up, not taking his eyes off of the sweet brown-eyed and brown-haired Omega. “He’s a runner.”

Her hair, her eyes, her smell were all of maple.

Helen. How apt.

“A runner?” He looks at Helen, “You may leave.”

“Oh no,” she shakes her head, “You are not going to dismiss me. I am not one of your bitches. I’m not going anywhere until you let him go. He is fifteen, for god’s sake!”

Viggo looks up at his guard, “Why is she still here?”

“I am talking to you!” She says, slamming her hands on his desk but Viggo continues to ignore her. 

He looks incredulously at the men before him. “Do I need to say it again? Somebody get this Omega out of my sight, and remind her of  _ her place _ .”

Two of the beta’s before him stand and John finds himself moving without a thought. His Alpha instinctually rises to the forefront and all he can process is

_ No. They will not touch what is mine. _

He grabs Helen’s arm and yanks her behind him, positioning her protectively and baring his teeth with a low growl.

The bit of him that is still John fights back into position, counting men, remembering exit routes. If he has to kill every last man in this building to get her out, he will do so gladly. He will rip out their throats and present them to her, regardless of his alliance with Tarasov.

Tarasov’s men back up instantly.

His head shoots towards Viggo, “ _ Claimed _ .”

“My, my, Mr. Wick.” Viggo sounds surprised, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“She’s under my protection,” John says, glaring out at the men who already had backed away and were cowering under his harsh gaze.

“By all means. Take her. But I have no wish to see her here again.”

“Are you not listening to me?” The woman shouts, trying to rip her arm free from Wick. It is no use. While his grip is gentle, it is firm and unyielding.

Without a word, John bends low and scoops up the little Omega, tossing her over his shoulder. She yells in protest, slamming her fists into his back. Rigorous, but nothing more than a swat.

Ignoring any glances thrown his way, John makes his way to the garage. He opens the passenger side door and maneuvers her into the seat while she continues to strikeout. He locked the door and went around to the other side, climbing into the driver’s seat. 

Helen went to punch him but he caught her fist in her hand.

This close to her, he could see the freckles that dotted her nose. She was lovely, even as her eyes flared with anger.

He almost doesn’t see her as the other hand goes to strike at his side but he catches a flash of silver and catches her wrist before she can stab the blade into his side. It catches him off guard, the little Omega had come armed.

He squeezes just tight enough so that she drops the knife. He transfers her wrist to his other hand, holding her small hands in one. John closes the knife and tucks it into his pocket.

“Boneheaded Alphas! Let me go!”

“You walk back into that compound, Omega or not, Viggo will order you killed.”

She tries to wrench her hands-free but it is of no use. “Let go of me!”

“Got any other knives hidden, pet?”John asks.

“No.” She snarls. 

“Are you going to try to hit me again?”

“I might!”

Sassy. Impertinent. How peculiar for one of her status.

“I don’t recommend it.” After a moment, he lets go. 

Her senses seem to kick in and she pulls her hands back, eyeing him warily. In such tight and closed quarters, the smell of maple was overwhelming. Every breath was excruciating and beautiful.

He had seen dozens of men fall to the charms of Omegas, certain that it would never happen to him. Never wanted it to happen to him.

“What did you mean when you told Tarasov “claimed”?”

John felt his nostrils flare involuntarily.

"Where is your Alpha?" He asks instead.

"I don't have one." She says, glaring at him.

He knew she was un-mated. Her neck did not bear the mark of another but that did not mean that she didn't have one betrothed.

_ I'll kill him  _ John thought, and then  _ no. No.  _ It wouldn't come to that. He could outbid any potential Alpha a hundred times over.

"Your father, your guardian."

“What about him?”

Her heart rate increases. He could feel the tension rising from her, a small scent of fear lining her maple for the first time.

This woman had marched her way all the way into Viggo Tarasov’s office, ready to fight over a fifteen-year-old runner, been grabbed and taken by an Alpha and locked in his car and now… now she was afraid?

Of her father?

Would he be angry if he knew where she was? Likely.

But it was more than that. The fear was now permeating her scent. She still smelled sweet but now there was a slight citrusy scent to it.

Had her father hurt her? Was it her father she was afraid of?

“Where is he?” John asks gruffly.

“A-at home.”

“And where is that?”

“Brooklyn.”

“The address, pet.”

“I don’t even know who you are!”

“My name is John. John Wick. What is the address?”

“Why?”

“I need to speak to him.”

“No!” She says sharply, a spike in citrus wafted from her. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is. The address.” He was met with silence, “My asking is a formality.”

She leans back in her seat, heart racing but visibly unmoved. The  _ Alpha Command _ . It was frowned upon to use, but it was unregulated. He could order her to tell him her address and it would spill from her lips before she could stop it.

Finally, she rattles it off and John turns the car on. “Did you drive here?” He asks.

“I took the subway.”

“Closest station is ten blocks away.”

“I walked the rest.”

Interesting.

“All for the kid? Peter?”

She didn’t look at him, keeping her gaze locked straight ahead. “So?”

“Just curious.” John glances over to her as he turns out onto the street. “Not every day someone decides to go up against Viggo. How do you know Peter?”

There is silence for a moment and he notices her glance at him, out the corner of her eyes before looking back at the road. “I’m his teacher. Or I was, before he dropped out to help Tarasov.”

Ah. That made sense. Teaching was one of the few professions left to Omega’s, providing they had the permission of their Alpha. Or, in the case of an unmated one like Helen, her father.

He was aware of Peter Illichov. His brother, Ivan, had been working for the Tarasov family for years but he knew little about them beyond that.

“He’s bright.” Helen says after a moment, “He has a head for numbers and a gift for writing that you just can’t teach. He could do great things if he’s allowed to pursue higher education and--”

“I’ll talk to Viggo.”

“--focus on… wait, what?”

“I’ll talk to Viggo,” John repeats, stopping at a red light and glancing over to Helen. “I’ll make sure the kid can go back to school.”

She blinks, her mouth open in surprise. “Why?”

The light turns green and he drives on.

They ride the rest of the way in silence.

Though she looked unaffected, citrus once again overwhelms his senses.

He was going to kill her father if the bastard so much as looked at her wrong.

He parks and Helen tries her hand at the door. It was still locked.

John opened his door and went around, opening her side. He offers a hand, which she hesitantly takes, stepping out onto the sidewalk. 

She opens the main door and he follows into a hallway. There was no lock, he notes.

Helen walks up two flights of stairs, taking out a set of keys from her pocket. She opens the apartment on the third floor, and once again, her heart was racing.

“Dad?” She calls hesitantly, stepping inside. She glances over her shoulder at Wick. “He could be at work.”

“What does he do?”

“He, uh, works as a sales manager.”

John follows her inside, looking around. The apartment was clearly lived in, though tidy. A couple of pairs of small shoes were by the door, under an array of jackets and sweaters. All built for someone her size. 

He stalks around. A chair in the corner that looked well-worn, but with lines from a vacuum hose drawn down it. He continues toward the back, where two closed doors were.

“Where are you going?” Helen asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Defensive. Interesting.

“Just looking around.”

He opens the first A small bedroom, decorated with lights and soft pillows. A desk in one corner and a small bed of blankets nested into the corner. He resists the urge to smile and closes the door.

He opens the second. A slightly larger room, a slightly larger bed. The smell of clean sheets and not much else. No one had slept in the bed since it was made. 

The room smells like lavender and mint. Crisp and clean and utterly  _ un-Alpha _ . 

There was no musk or heavy scents.

There were books on the bookshelves and he went over.

Dusted, clean.

But untouched. Like everything else in the room.

A suspicion arises in his mind, settling the earlier concern of abuse.

John turns around and walks back, past Helen, and into the kitchen.

He checks the freezer first. Low on food, but there was chicken and fish. Then the fridge, which was also nearly bare. There were a dozen eggs and some cheese and some leftovers in Tupperware. At the bottom, there were a few vegetables.

“Where is your father?” John asks, turning around.

“As I said, he’s probably at work.” She is still under his scrutiny, for which he gives her credit.

“The bed in your father’s room hasn’t been slept in. Looks like nothing of his has been touched.” She turns white as he speaks. It tugs at his heart but he continues, “No evidence of him anywhere but in his bedroom, and no red meat in your fridge. Where is your father?”

Citrus.

John softens his voice, “I’m not going to hurt you, Helen. And I’m not going to tell anyone what I have found.”

It does little to change her expression or her scent.

John takes a tentative step forward, hands out in front of him in a sort of mock surrender. 

“He’s dead.” She replies quietly.

She had been pretending her Alpha was still alive, John realizes. To protect herself.

“How long?”

She shifts, “Fifteen years.”

John resists a smile.

Oh, his clever girl. Fifteen years of pretending. She must have been a child.

“You were young.”

“Seventeen.” She confirms softly, “If I had gone into the system at that age, the possibility of finding an Alpha to let me go to school, to have a career… it would have been impossible.”

John nods, thoughtfully. Helen has been on her own for fifteen years, hiding in plain sight as she masterfully implemented her plans.

An impossible charade to keep on forever, but one she had managed for more than a decade.

He has to approach this carefully. She is strong in will even if delicate in stature.

“What are you going to do?” Helen asks when he does not say anything of her age.

John blinks. A crossroads.

“Let’s go to lunch.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Lunch.” He repeats, “Is there anywhere close you recommend?”

“You want to… go get lunch? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There are things I wish to discuss with you. And I would like to do so while feeding you.”

“I…” She seems stuck on that, the abrupt change throwing her for a loop.

“I won’t report your unique… situation.” John promises, “But we’re going to lunch.”

“Okay.” She is clearly wary, regarding him still with confusion, but she acquiesces.

“Is there someplace nearby you like?”

Helen shrugs, “There’s a diner at the corner of the street.”

John nods and opens the door, gesturing for her to take the lead. They walk in silence to the end of the street and she pretends not to notice how close to her he insists on walking.

In turn, John pretends not to notice the way she keeps looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

He has things to consider, aside from his own desires. Helen could not be left alone. Viggo would surely check up on the situation. She had stood against a dangerous man, bravely to be sure, but in a risky maneuver, she could not have possibly won.

And John’s protection only meant something if he was there to back it up with action.

Which left them with limited options.

Add in his desires to the mix… Well, that was a different story. 

That she was unmated was mind-boggling. She was a catch. Clever and beautiful. Quick-witted. And she was older. By what she had told him, she was mid-thirties.

There was no way he could let her walk into his life just to walk out.

But Helen was wild and untamed and would not take kindly to subservience. Nor did he want her subservient.

She was an Omega, but he could not win her unless they were equals.

They are told by a waitress to sit where they like and John takes her to the far back corner. He sits with his back to the wall, eyes towards the door.

Helen opens a menu and smiles slightly as she goes through the choices. 

“What do you like to get here?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “I’ve never actually been here before. Always wanted to check it out, though.”

A spike of rage surges but he clamps it quickly. Never again will she want for anything. He is grateful when the waitress comes, taking his mind off of what Helen had lived without.

“You know what you want?” The older waitress asks, looking at John first. 

He saw Helen roll her eyes at the pathetic custom and his heart warms.

“Water, and the bacon burger.”

“And for you, hon?” She asks Helen.

“The veggie omelet and water.”

“Be just a few minutes.”

They wait as the waitress walks away and then Helen looks at John expectantly.

“Well?” She asks.

And, for once, he finds himself at a loss.

He is John Wick. His name is feared all over the world. His reputation precedes him and his shadow alone can make a lesser man run.

So why, he wonders to himself, am I terrified of this tiny girl?

_ Because she holds the power. _

“I ask of you a chance,” John says finally, looking down as he speaks to her. The way an Omega would be expected to speak to an Alpha. 

Helen does not move or react. “A… chance?”

John nods, “You need no Alpha. I see that. I ask only for a chance, for your hand.”

Maple, no longer infused with bitter and sour citrus, but something floral and gentle.

Incredible. Salivating.

He wants to close the distance, to rush to the other side of the table. He longs to clasp her to him, holding her in his arms and kissing her with abandon. To lift her up onto the table and claim her there and then.

John takes a breath.  _ Not. Yet. _

The waitress comes by and drops off the drinks. Helen watches as she walks away before turning back to John, “What did you mean” she asks, “when you told Tarasov''claimed ``?''

“I mean,” John leans forward and reaches for her hand, “That you are under my protection. For Tarasov to touch you, for anyone to touch you, it will be seen as an act of aggression towards  _ me _ .”

“Why?”

She keeps asking that and John is not sure that he has an answer. A reason to appease her curiosity.

A thousand answers that could not be rolled into one. 

_ Because you pushed your way past guards to get to Tarasov. Because you stood up to him. Because you would not take no for an answer. Because you care about the well being of a kid that Tarasov hasn’t even bothered to learn the name of. Because you smell like maple. Because I want to know if you taste like maple. Because you are the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld and because there was no way in hell, anyone was going to touch you but me. _

For all that, and more. 

But words were beyond him.

“The words I have,” he admitted finally, “do not seem to do justice to my reasons. Perhaps, if you give me time, I can try to find the right ones to say to you.”

Her heart sped up. John longed to reach for her but resisted, his nails digging, instead, into his palm.

A moment passed and she let out a breath.

“A chance from me in exchange for your silence about… my father?”

He would not be telling anyone of her father. She could be imprisoned for such an offense and prisons were not kind to Omegas. At best, she would be shipped off to some male relative. Clearly there were none who cared enough to know that her father had been dead for fifteen years. 

He nods, hating himself for the blackmail, desperately trying to justify that it is for her safety. Safety for her sake, not her safety for his sake.

“Viggo Tarasov will look into you. You have caught his attention. It is possible that, should he dig deep enough, he will find out about your father. I have the resources to offer you protection.”

Her eyes narrow, “And you have the resources to protect me from Viggo Tarasov and the rest of the Russian Mafia?”

“Yes.”

His Omega looks unsure, biting her lip in a way that made his pants suddenly far too tight.  _ That _ , he thinks _ , should be illegal. _

Their food is delivered and her uncertainty morphs quickly into excitement as the waitress sets the omelet down in front of her. She eagerly cuts into it and brings her fork to her mouth, groaning at the first bite.

_ No _ , he thinks,  **_that_ ** _ should be illegal. _

Helen swallows, nodding to herself. “What does  _ a chance _ entail?”

A negotiation. That is progress. A step up from an offer, an illustration of willingness. 

“Dates,” he says.  _ A must _ , “A time to get to know each other.”

“How many?”

“A month trial.” He says, “At that point, you can choose to extend the time or leave.”

“Three weeks.” She counters.

He blinks. An odd period of time.

And Helen flushes pink, the scent of maple nearly scent-blinding him. “I, uh, my next heat is in a month. I don’t want to have a foggy brain when making that kind of decision.”

_ Sweet fucking Jesus Christ. _

John forces himself to swallow, wondering if she can feel that heat radiating off of him already. That just wasn’t fair.

Finally, he nods. “Agreed.”

“And if I choose to leave?” She raises her chin.

_ You won’t. _

“Then I will let you.”

The Alpha inside of him was tearing him apart, desperate to shout in denial. She was already his. He would never let her go.

“And you won’t tell anyone about my father, even then?”

“Agreed.”

She seems to be considering it. “Do you have any other conditions?”

John blinks. This may be his only opportunity to debate this. He nods to himself, thinking it through.

“One. And I acknowledge that it is a big one.”

She nods, waiting for him to go one.

“Tarasov is going to have people investigating you. It would be easier to protect you from my home.” She looks ready to protest and he throws up his hands, again, in submission, “You would have your own room, your own space. A home where the front door actually locks and is far safer than anything in Brooklyn.”

She blinks at that, “Where do you live?”

“Just over the bridge in New Jersey.”

Helen shakes her head, “No. I teach, here, in Brooklyn.”

“And with taking the subway and walking, your commuting time will be virtually the same. At most, it will be a little longer.”

“I don’t have a car.”

“I will get you one.”

She nearly chokes on the omelet, “What? Just like that?” She challenges.

She doesn’t understand, and it almost makes him want to smile. Helen seems to think he is just some lackey of Tarasov when he is so much more than that. While he may assist Tarasov and offer counsel, Viggo has always been afraid of  _ him _ .

Baba Yaga is sitting in front of her, offering her a deal with the devil. And she doesn’t know.

“Yes.” Says John, “Just like that. We can go pick one out today. Whatever you want, and you can keep it even if you choose to walk away when our time is up.”

She blinks, looking down and nodding to herself.

Finally, she meets his eyes. “Get Peter back in school and you have a deal.”

“ _ Done _ .”

…


	2. Changes

They finish their meal and he takes her home to pack. She settles for one duffle bag for her personal things and a backpack for what she needs to teach.

Then, John takes her to Aurelio’s. The man always has a few classics in stock and he may be the only mechanic that John truly trusts.

He parks out front and goes around to open her door.

“Stay close to me.” He tells her.

“Why?”

He cannot help but smirk as he leans down to whisper in her ear, “Because you’re an unmated Omega and you smell like maple.”

Helen shivers and he takes his suit jacket off and wraps it around her shoulders. It cloaks her sweetness with his musk but he still worries about the Alpha’s employed by Aurelio.

He wraps an arm around her, careful to keep his grip light, and guides her into the shop.

“Hello, Mister Wick!” Jorge, one of Aurelio’s grunts says, as they come in. “Destroy your car again?”

“No.” John says with a small smile, “The car is fine. Is your boss in?”

“In the office.”

Jorge tells him and John keeps Helen close to his side as they navigate to the back. The office door is open and John knocks on the frame. “Got a minute?”

Aurelio looks up and grins, “For you? Always. Come in. Come in.” He moves a stack of papers to the corner of his desk. He notices Helen and stands, looking to John in surprise. “And who is this?”

“Helen, this is my good friend Aurelio. Aurelio, this is Helen.”

She gives him a small smile and a wave as John closes the door behind them.

“Hello, Helen.” He says with a bow of his head.

John pulls out a chair and she sits down. He remains standing, his hand resting on her shoulder.

“What brings you both in today?”

“Helen needs a car,” John says.

“Specifications?”

“Safety is the top priority, followed by maneuverability. She’ll mainly be using it to commute to New York.”

“Sedan or SUV?”

John looks down at Helen. She blinks, almost surprised to have a say. “Uh, sedan.”

Aurelio offers a friendly smile, “It’ll be easier to park in the city.”

She nods and Aurelio takes out a binder, flipping through the pages. 

“Two doors or four?”

“Four, please.”

He nods with a smile, “I got a Porsche Turbo outback, but that’s not the safest model. Uh…” 

Helen shoots a lookup to John at the mention of the Porsche and he just gives her a small smile.

“I also got an AMG Benz, or, if you’re feeling fancy, the new Alfa Romeo Guilia.”

“Test drives?” John asks.

“Of course,” Aurelio says, rolling back in his chair. “Would you like to take her?”

“Can you? I have some calls to make.” At her questioning look, he quietly says, “Peter.”

Helen nods frantically and John represses a smile.

“Let me get those pulled up front.” 

John kneels down next to her chair, “Stay here for now. Aurelio’ll come to get you when the cars are ready. If you don’t like either, we can keep looking.”

Helen swallows and nods.

John breathes her in and follows Aurelio out.

He finds Aurelio over at the lockbox, where they keep all the keys at any given time.

Aurelio gives him a smirk. 

“Tell me,” John says, glancing around the room.

“Rumor has it, some Omega marched her way into Viggo’s office a couple of hours ago making demands. Viggo was going to have her taken out like last week’s garbage, and you stepped up and made a claim.”

“Rumor travels fast.”

“Always does in our world. Speaking of which, does she know what our world is?”

“She knows I’m involved with the mafia. She doesn’t know about the rest of it.”

Aurelio scoffs, "how long do you plan to keep that a secret?"

"Not long." John says, "just not today."

"Flight risk?"

"Hyper-moral."

Aurelio snorts, "after all this time, an Omega finally catches your eye and she's Jiminy Cricket?"

"The irony isn't lost on me." John says, "you'll take her out yourself?"

"Relax. No Alphas will be near her. I'll keep her safe."

"I know." He says with a nod, "thank you, Aurelio. I truly owe you one." John slips Aurelio a gold coin.

"Of course. You just worry about doing whatever you need to do to convince that beautiful Omega to stick with your ass."

And that was far easier said than done.

But, Helen had backed a bag of her clothes and everything she would need to teach. She had given him until Monday to get Peter out of the mafia and back into school. If he wasn't in her class on Monday morning, she would be staying at her own apartment.

He went outside as Aurelio went to get Helen, dialing Viggo as he went.

"Well, hello John. I must say I'm surprised to hear from you so soon. I would have thought you would be busy."

He cracks his knuckles, taking in a breath.

"I'm calling in the marker."

When John was younger and still new to the game, he had been working a protection detail for Viggo's wife. He had taken a bullet meant for Misses Tarasov and, single-handedly, managed to get all three attackers and bring their heads to Viggo. The man had offered him a marker in return.

"Oh?" He can practically see Viggo sit up in his chair, "are you, now?"

"Peter Ilichov. Force him out of the Mafia and our book is cleared."

There was a pause.

"You're joking?"

"No. Set him up with a college trust. Tell him it’s a tax write-off scholarship or some bullshit.”

"Consider it done, John."

"I'll need documentation. You know where to fax it."

"Yes, of course!"

John hung up and smiled. He had almost expected Viggo to tease him about following the wishes of an Omega but the man had been so grateful to be free of such a marker, he hadn't said a word. And, knowing Viggo and his penitent for self-preservation, John would have the papers soon.

Everything was in order, the easy parts are done. Now, he was left with the hard part: convincing Helen, in three weeks, that he was worth anything.

He leans against the wall, waiting for Aurelio and Helen to complete the loop with the first car.

Three weeks would go by quickly, which meant he had to make every action count. 

He could easily step back at work, take on only a few cases. Ones that would be easy enough to perform in the daylight hours while Helen taught. If necessary, he could take a few at night, while she slept. 

The car comes around the corner as he contemplated such. Helen is smiling, his large jacket engulfing her. 

John pushes off the wall, stalking towards the car as Helen turns it off. He reaches the driver's side door and opens it.

Her smile remains in place as she looks up at him.

He offers a hand, which she does not hesitate to take.

“How was it?” He asks.

“It was good. A little zippy, though.”

John looks to Aurelio as the beta climbs out of the passenger seat. “It’s zippy, but it is safe. Low center of gravity, good balance, and shocks. But the Benz has all that, too.” He smiles at Helen, “I’ll go grab the keys to that one and we’ll see which you like better.”

“Thanks, Aurelio.” She says softly as he hurries back inside.

John waits until the door closes behind his friend before he looks back at Helen. “It’s taken care of.” He says simply and she blinks.

“Peter?” She clarifies.

“He’ll be back in school on Monday.”

Whatever John had been expecting, he wasn’t prepared for Helen to launch herself at him. She throws her arms around his neck, forcing him to bend to meet her tiny stature. He cares not. He brings his own arms up and around her, holding her to him.

A hug. 

He cannot seem to remember the last one he had but he was certain it had never felt like this.

John inhales the sweet maple rolling off of her in waves tightens his grip slightly.

“Thank you.” She whispers, then again.

John wonders what else he can do to earn such a favor. Are there any other students she wants brought back to her classroom? John will track them all down. Anything for her to hug him and hold him, and bury her face in his chest.

He becomes lost in the sensations that holding her comes with and kicks himself for it, as Aurelio clears his throat.

There are always enemies. Even in bliss, he needs to remember that. Now more than ever. Still, anyone who acted against a Claim would face the wrath of the High Table.

He loosens his grip and Helen steps back, flushing so prettily. 

The new car is similar in size, a little higher off the ground but far less flashy.

Aurelio holds up the keys with a smirk, offering them to Helen. 

“You taking her on this one?”

John nods as Helen walks around to the driver’s side. He slips into the passenger seat, ignoring Aurelio’s pointed look as Helen adjusts the mirrors.

She pulls out of the lot, testing the gas. 

“How did you do it?” She asks softly.

Peter.

“I called in a favor.”

Her lips twitch as she drives. His sweet, headstrong little Omega. 

“Just like that?” She asks.

“It also helps to know which of Tarasov’s buttons to push.”

“Why do you work for him?”

“I don’t, exclusively. On occasion, I offer him, counsel. If the money is decent, I do jobs for him?"

"Doing what?"

The million-dollar question.

"That depends."

"On?"

Ever the inquisitive Omega.

John looks over at her. She is focused on her task, keeping an eye out for cars and pedestrians. She clearly knew how to drive but he doubts she has had much practice in the city. The thought makes him smile, knowing that will change.

He can provide for her. And not just cars. A house. Clothes. Jewelry. The softest blankets and pillows and finery she could ever dream of. Vacations and getaways.

But Helen is not his. Not yet.

He has to earn the right to call her his Omega.

“We’ve covered a lot today.” John says finally, “And I promise to be honest with you. I just ask for one more day.”

She glances over, briefly. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s a conversation. One we should both be sitting down for, not in a moving vehicle.”

There is silence and she nods, “Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” The words feel foreign in his mouth. He is unused to saying it to anyone but it does not feel bad to say it to her.

She follows the route she had taken with Aurelio and they pull back into the parking lot. She brings the car to a stop and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Do you have a preference or would you like to keep looking?”

“They both drive really well. I think this one is a little less intimidating. But it’s a Mercedes.”

“Would you prefer a different brand?”

She blinks, “John, I know I’m not an expert on cars but even I know how expensive Mercedes runs.”

He cannot help but smile, “Believe me when I say it’s not a concern.”

“But…”

“Helen.” He cuts her off, “If you want this and the Alfa Romeo, we’ll get both. If you want the Mercedes and a Lamborghini, I’ll be concerned, because Lamborghini’s are shit, but we’ll get both.”

Her sweet brown eyes were wide.

What would she think when she saw his house?

“So, Mercedes? The Alfa Romeo? The Lamborghini?"

"The Mercedes." She says softly.

He smiles and opens the door, walking around to do the same for her.

Her hand is so small as it sits in his. Such a tiny little thing that just hours ago was prepared to go against Viggo Tarasov for the life of a young boy.

Aurelio is waiting by the door. "Do we have a winner?"

"The Mercedes."

"I'll draw up the paperwork. I'll meet you in my office."

"Thank you," Helen tells him, allowing John to lead her to the back. She takes her seat and John sits next to her. He takes out his phone and sends off a couple of quick texts.

Aurelio comes in with a folder.

"Whose name?" Aurelio asks, sitting down.

"Hers."

"You'll sign as the Alpha?"

John nods as Aurelio passes him a packet with the sign here stickers.

"Helen, sign on the blue stickers. John, on the red."

They sign and Aurelio explains the procedures to Helen.

"I'll rush the paperwork and get it registered in your name. It should be ready tonight." He looks to John, "would you like it delivered to your house?"

"Yes."

"I'll drive it up once it’s ready."

John nods his thanks and wraps an arm around Helen, taking her back out to his car.

“Thank you.” She says after he settles into the driver’s seat. “I learned to drive on my dad’s car but I’ve never had my own before.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He longs to reach out and touch her, to run his hand through her dark hair, but they are not there yet. 

_ Soon _ , he soothes his Alpha, backing out of the parking lot.

They’re not far from home, but John knows his kitchen is not stocked to meet her needs. While he has more than enough in terms of red meats and starches, neither carries the nutrients recommended for Omegas.

He had seen her fridge and wondered how she survived.

An Omega’s teaching salary was next to nothing. A sort of supplementary income in a society that expected Alpha’s to provide. He had always found it ridiculous that Omegas were not given the resources to survive on their own. He knew of too many Omegas with cruel or uninterested Alphas. Between guardianship and not being afforded living wages, it was nearly impossible for an Omega to go anywhere and the shelters for battered Omegas were not known for being safe.

Somehow, Helen had managed to survive in New York City for fifteen years. She had made her way through college with forged papers from her dead father, supported herself completely on her own.

And a dead father was not something you could just keep secret on your own. There would have been a body.

“Can I ask…” John hesitates, glancing over at the woman beside him, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Survive for so long on your own.”

“Being an Omega doesn’t make me weak!” She bit out.

“I know!” He nods, looking at her again, “I know. But you were a kid when your father died. You made your way through college, became a teacher. How?”

She looks ahead with a small shrug. “I didn’t have many options. After my mom died, I knew it was only a matter of time before dad followed her. They were… those kind of mates, you know? The ones who can’t stand to live without the other.”

He didn’t know. Not personally, but he had seen mates obsessed with one another. Not often, but enough. The strong Alphas who yielded to their gentle Omegas. The ones who would die rather than hurt their Omega’s feelings.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Thirteen. Honestly, I was amazed dad survived as long as he did. I think he wanted to make it until I reached maturity but he fell a little short.”

“How’d you keep his death a secret?”

“Is anything ever really a secret?” She asks, leaning back into the seat. “It all happened so fast. I went to bed one night. Woke up the next morning and he was gone. He had died during the night.

“Luckily, he had already signed the papers to allow me to go to college. I had been accepted to NYU and he’d even sent in the first payment. And I couldn’t lose that opportunity. So, I had a friend," the car is filled with the smell of citrus and John's hands tighten on the steering wheel, "an Alpha I thought I could trust. 

"I had him help dispose of the body. We drove out Pine Barrens. Dismembered my father and scattered the body parts."

John nearly chokes, head flying around to look at Helen. Of all the things he was expecting,  _ that _ was not it. But she wasn’t done.

“He wanted half of my dad’s retirement checks. I agreed, not that I had much of an option. I signed for his monthly checks and half went to my college, half went to Ben. Living on half the check was tough but not impossible and, for a couple months, things were fine. Then he wanted more.”

He could feel his hackles rise, his Alpha aching to lash out. To find this  _ Ben _ and rip him limb from limb and disperse of his body like she had done to her father.

“He wanted seventy percent of my father’s checks. At the time, I was already barely scraping by. I was taking out loans to pay for school but between rent, food, and books, it was tough. I told him such and Ben suggested that maybe there was something else I could give him.”

“I’ll kill him.” He growls, his knuckles turning white.

“You’re too late.” The corner of her mouth tipped up in a smirk. “He touched me and I slit his throat.”

John just avoids crashing the car as he turns into the parking lot for Whole Foods.  _ Jesus fucking Christ. _ He carefully maneuvers his car into a spot towards the back.

“I slit his throat,” She repeats as he puts the car in park, “Punctured his lungs, and threw him into the Hudson.” Helen turns and looks him in the eye, “I truly appreciate all that you’ve been doing for me. And for Peter. But don’t mistake me for an Omega that you can control. Not with money, and not with force.”

She opened her door and stepped out of the car, leaving John sitting there wide-eyed.

It only took a few seconds for John to scramble out to follow her. His long legs were no match for her and he quickly caught up.

“I’m confused.” He said as they walked across the parking lot.

“Oh?”

“Why would you tell me that? Why would you give me that kind of information over you?”

She smirked, “Who would believe you?” Helen stopped, turning to face him. Her full lips were in a pout, quivering, and her eyes were wide, “I’m just a scared Omega. I couldn’t hurt anyone!”

He smiles, unable to help himself.  _ My sweet, strong Omega _ .  _ I'm going to marry you. _

She looks taken aback at his smile and turns back to the store.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re brilliant?” John asks, scanning around.

“I usually don’t let anyone find out I’m brilliant.”

John grins and takes her inside the cool market. 

"What do you want?"

"I'll eat anything."

"Good to know. What do you want?"

The little Omega shrugs, "I'm not picky. Whatever you usually get is fine."

"I have plenty of meat and starches at home. I would," he hesitates, "appreciate it if you pick out some things you like."

She is quiet for a moment, and John wonders if she’ll respond. “I like fish.”

He grabs a cart and leads her to the back. “Whatever you want.” He tells her as they walk towards the back and reminds her, “You’ve agreed to three weeks.”

She nods but doesn’t grab anything until they get to the back. There, she picks up a pack of frozen haddock into the cart.

"Want some fresh?"

She shrugs,"it's cheaper frozen."

John wordlessly puts the frozen fish back and walks up to the counter and orders a pound of fresh.

"Do you like salmon?" He asks her quietly.

Helen nods, "Sometimes I splurge and get it for Christmas."

His Alpha growled again.

Living between dwindling retirement and a supplementary income as a teacher. She would never live paycheck to paycheck again.

And he had noted the comment loans from school… if there was any charge left, it would be taken care of by morning.

He orders the salmon and looks at the display case. “Shrimp?”

“Never had it.”

He orders a pound of that, too.

She insists that it’s enough and they move on to the meat, where John orders a couple pounds of lean chicken breasts.

She insists it’s too much and they move on to the delicatessen, where John orders a handful of cheeses that Helen had never tried. 

He can see that she’s a little overwhelmed and he wraps an arm around the waist. John lowers his head to ear as they wait for their order, “Are you freaking out?”

At that, she smirks, “You’d know if I was freaking out. I’m just… not used to this.”

“Having a provider?”

She gives him a slight glare, “Just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean--”

“I’m not assuming it means anything. But I know that the system is rigged against Omegas. That it couldn’t have been easy doing what you’ve done for as long as you have. It’s admirable.”

Helen nods, taken aback. She doesn’t lean into him but she doesn’t try to move from under his arm either. The deli worker hands over their order and John tosses it into the cart. He holds the cart with one hand, keeping her close with the other.

He still didn’t know what to think about the Omega. The touch and clever little thing, who had dismembered her father and hid the body parts and slit the throat of a once-friend who had tried to harm her. 

She was perfect.

He takes her over to produce. “The options here are for you to tell me what you like or… I’ll get one of everything.”

“One of everything in the produce department?”

“Please, test me on this.” He teases, “I’ll go around right now.”

Helen laughs softly, “I”m almost tempted to test you. But I’ll stick to what I like.” 

She picked a bag of spinach and another of mixed greens. She also takes a bag of apples and sets them in the cart and looks at John expectantly.

“That’s it?”

“It’s all I need.”

He wants to rub his head in disbelief. “Forget what you need. What do you like? What would you like to try?”

Helen shrugs, looking uncomfortably around the produce section. “Maybe some of the berries?”

John nods encouragingly and pushes the cart over to where the berries are. He takes a container of each and adds it to the cart.

The rest of the trip is without incident. He adds some cookies from the bakery that Helen had been eyeing, even though she hadn’t said anything. They stock up on legumes and nuts and Helen looks away as the items ring up.

Once everything is loaded into the car, John reaches out and lifts her chin.

“I know that made you uncomfortable. But you did so well.”

There is an influx of maple and she looks away. 

She had done well, he thinks as he pulls out of the parking lot. With Viggo, with sharing about her father and accepting a strange Alpha buying her a car. And she hadn’t liked it, but she had done well with the grocery store even though she was clearly out of her comfort zone.

And now, with her bags in his trunk and their groceries in his backseat, he was taking her home.

His Omega.

He is taking his Omega home.

If someone had told him that morning, as he was driving into the city to meet with Tarasov, that he would be returning home with an Omega, he wouldn’t have believed them. He might have even laughed. 

For the first time in his life, he drives home with someone by his side.

Helen fiddles with the radio a bit, settling on some mix station, before settling in and watching the road go by. 

They make their way up the long winding driveway and John keeps one eye on his passenger, watching her face shift in shock at seeing his house.

It was the pinnacle of power. An architectural masterpiece of glass and metal. It was all hard angles and bright lighting. It was built for an Alpha. He had never imagined having anyone else there.

For once in his life, John feels nervous.

Helen looks out over his property. The large open fields just outside the city, with woods lining the property. She looks in awe and John feels his lips quirk towards a smile.

He hits a button at the top of his visor and his garage open.

It has space for our cars but is empty until he parks.

He hits another button and it closes behind them.

John inhales and scents slight notes of citrus. She’s nervous.

He reaches over and takes her hand. “You okay?” He asks.

Her bravado snaps into place. “Of course.”

With a quick squeeze, John releases her hand. He carries the groceries and she takes her bags, following him up the short stairs and into his house.

Somehow, it seems bigger inside than it did out. She scans his living room, sunken into the floor, with exquisite furniture. There’s even a piano underneath a small balcony on the second floor.

“This is the living room.” He says and she resists the urge to sigh. Her entire apartment would fit there. And, holy hell, was that a courtyard? “Through here is the kitchen.”

She followed him into the large kitchen, with a bar and island and a breakfast nook in the corner. There were chrome appliances and it was immaculately clean. There is a terrace that reaches out from the back of the kitchen with a table outside as well. Past it, she can see a body of water.

John sets the groceries down and she watches, paying attention to where he puts each new food. He sets the cookies on the island between them, pushing it towards her, wordlessly.

She hesitates before reaching out and opening the box, her eyes never leaving John as he continues to unpack their groceries. She’d never met an Alpha who had put away their own groceries. Her own father had insisted she do such domestic chores.

Helen always wondered how single Alphas survived. Her father would have been dead after a week if she hadn’t stepped up.

But John has no mating marks. Which, she admits, doesn’t mean much. Lots of Alphas gave bites but didn’t allow reciprocation. But while his house is clean and tidy and put together well, there is a harshness to it.

No pillows or blankets. 

The smells were musky and woodsy.

There is no evidence of any Omegas in his life. And Tarasov had seemed damn near shocked when John had protectively thrown her behind him and growled  _ claimed _ .

It sends a shiver down her spine to think about and a rush to other places.

He had figured out her biggest secret within an hour of meeting with her and he hadn’t tried to bring an unguarded Omega into the police. Nor had he flinched when she told him what she had done to her father and to Ben. If anything, he seemed  _ amused _ .

Now, he had hands her cookies as he put away groceries.

And for what? For an agreement that she stays with him for three weeks? That she agree to give him a chance to be with her?

He had her cornered before he knew what she was capable of. He could have pushed, he could have tried to go down the same road Ben had. But he hadn’t. He has  _ asked _ .

_ I ask of you a chance. _

She isn’t sure what to make of any of that.

Why?

He is attractive. Well-built and imposing with sharp features but soft eyes. Strong. Wealthy. A protector and provider. 

But unattached. By choice.

He puts the last of the beans into the cupboard and turns around. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

She finds herself nodding and John takes her bag.

“There’s a dining room through there. I don’t ever use it, though.” He shows her and they walk back through the house. She follows him to a set of stairs, one goes up and one goes down. He points down, “That’s the basement. It’s finished with a small bar. office space, and a library. It’s where I do most of my work. Up here,” He stars up the stairs, “Are the bedrooms. There are two suites and one master.”

They reach the second floor. It overlooks the entire living room. There is a small, cozy little space at the end with a couch. A few bookcases line the wall.

There’s a small doorway just before the couch and John shows her a large room with a desk and a couple of chairs. “This is my study.”

“Separate from the offices?” She asks, trying to sound disinterested.

“I use this one for business. The office downstairs is used for my personal endeavors.”

“And can you talk about that or is that another  _ “wait for tomorrow _ ” discussion?”

John smirks down at her. “I rebind rare and old books.”

She blinks. 

Of all the things he could have said, that was not on the list.

But, even as she thought such, she could picture it in her head. The big Alpha, bent over an old tome, carefully lacing the bindings together.

“Really?” She asks.

“Really.” He confirms and leads her down the hallway to the back, where two doors sit at one corner.

“This one is mine.” He touches the door on one, “And this will be yours.”

He opens the door to the spare room and she forces herself not to drop her jaw. It was larger than her father’s room had been and she considered that to be a pinnacle. There was a king bed in the center of the room, with grey fixtures and a white bureau. Across from the bed, was a television set  _ in the bedroom _ . And a balcony!

“The balcony connects to my room,” John says as she crosses the room to open the door outside. She steps out onto the balcony. It has a clear railing, allowing her to see over the side and across the beautiful greenery that surrounds his house.

“Fucking shit.” She swears, glancing back, “You have a swimming pool?”

“And two jacuzzis.” He is suddenly behind her, an arm lazily coming to rest on her hip. She feels her breath stutter but she says nothing as he points out towards the pool. “One is outside, attached to the end of the pool. The other is in the basement.”

His front is pressed to her back.

That seems to be overpowering anything that John is saying.

A room the size of half her old apartment, with a balcony that overlooked the pool and a real backyard. A television.

She had hocked her father’s back in college to buy textbooks and had never replaced it. But now, there was one in her room.

They weren’t even six hours into this new contract of theirs, and she already wanted to say to hell with it, and just move in.

An idea strikes her and Helen slips out from his arm, walking back across the balcony. 

“You look like you’re plotting,” John says, amusement dripping from his tongue.

“I usually am.” She tells him, crossing to the door to his room. “I just think it's only fair if you snooped through the home that I snoop through yours.”

John makes no move to stop her and she opens the door into his room. It's even bigger than the room she will be staying in. The room is elegant if a little utilitarian. She opens the closet and finds suit after suit after suit, all pressed and hung according to color. The shirts are mostly whites or blacks with a couple dark grey thrown in to mix it up. 

Helen smirks and closes the door. She continues back. There’s a bathroom with a double-sink. A few scattered items line one side but the other is empty.

There’s a large shower lined with marble and a huge overhead faucet that she’s never seen before. It’s more than two feet wide and just as long and she imagines that standing under it must be like showering in the rain.

She turns back to his room and John is standing by the balcony door, smirking softly.

At her curiosity? She wonders.

“I’m afraid it lacks personal touches,” John says, eyeing her with interest.

“I noticed that. I get the idea that this is less of a home and more of a place where you eat and sleep.”

He inclines his head, neither confirming nor denying her assumption.

Helen rolls her eyes and goes back to the room next door. Her room, for all intents and purposes. It’s as bare as John’s room in terms of decor. She notices the lack of pillows on the bed and is tempted to ask if John has more in the other room that she could borrow. 

She checks her own bathroom. It’s a bit smaller but it has a tub and that makes her smile. She could take a bath. Maybe even that night!

She goes back into the bedroom, smiling.

Maple mixed with something gentle and fresh and almost milky. Chamomile.

John blinks, “What?” He asks in genuine curiosity, confused at the sudden excitement radiating off of her.

She shrugs, glancing away. “The bathtub. I’ve never had one before.”

His eyes narrow, not unkindly. Almost as if he’s plotting while staring into her soul. She glances away, “Can I see your library?”

“Of course.” He gestures for her to go in front of him and she walks the length of the hallway, passing the unused bedroom. They walk down both flights of stairs into the basement. It almost hurts her head to realize that his basement is as big as the rest of the house. It opens into a carpeted den. 

He had said there was a bar but she had assumed that meant some kind of tabletop with a variety of drinks. Not a fully stocked bar, complete with a handful of draft beers. In the back, there is a pool table underneath neon lights but what really catches her attention is the giant television that takes up an entire wall. It sits just in front of an L-shaped couch.

Unable to say anything, she nods. Okay. She should have expected this.

He leads her through wordlessly. 

“Here is the empty office. I use it for storage but if you’d like it for grading or lesson planning, I can have it ready in fifteen minutes.”

She blanches at that.

An office space. She had always just used the kitchen table or completed all the grading at school.

She does not answer him, unsure of what to say. It’s too much and she’ll only be there for three weeks.

_ Unless… _

Though she isn’t entirely sure of why, the Alpha wants her. Is interested in her. Had made moves to prove what a good provider he could be. He wants her to stay. It is a big house. Maybe he was lonely? Or maybe there was pressure to settle down and take a nice mate.

She almost snorts at the thought.

She was anything but ‘nice mate’ material.

She follows John onward and he seems content in her lack of response. Instead, he points out a door on the other side of the hallway. “This is where the jacuzzi and sauna are.”

_ SAUNA?  _ She wants to shout. A sauna. In his house. Next to his jacuzzi. 

But John just keeps walking on. “And here, in the back, is the library. My office is attached.” He taps a series of numbers on a panel next to the glass door. “The combination is sixteen - oh - five.” He tells her and opens the door.

The library is cool, almost chilly, but she says nothing. There are display tables, protected by glass, on either side of the door. There’s an old Bible. She recognizes the text as Greek. Next to it, there is a copy of the Qu’ran and a bound scroll.

She crosses over to the other. Several tomes of early Shakespearan works were collected.

Helen exhales, in awe of the books that, by right, should be in a museum.

The library is not quite what she expected. It is far more academic than anything. Most of the shelves are lined with leather- and cloth-bound books. It makes her long to run her hands against the soft texture. 

There is also a more modern collection, kept separate from the older books. Textbooks on anatomy and historical summaries of battles and war. There are philosophical tomes and psychology texts as well. She wonders if he has read them all.

“This is all non-fiction,” John tells her, coming up behind her. “I keep the classics and first editions upstairs, just off my study.”

“It’s incredible.” She whispers and he smiles. 

“Thank you.”

He places a hand on her back and guides her towards the office. There is another glass door, set into a glass wall. She could already see inside but John opens the door and she steps into the office. 

There is a desk and several tables. One is dedicated to threads and glues and curved needles. Another holds piles of pages. It looked like he was in the middle of a project.

“It’s a Chaucer. The Book of the Duchess, originally published in 1368. This is a handwritten copy from 1370. It belonged to Pope Gregory XI. I picked it up last time I was in Rome.”

He has a way of adding little tidbits into the conversation as if they’re nothing. 

The  _ last time _ he was in Rome?

“How did you get it?” She asks, looking at it from as close as she dares.

“I’m… acquaintances with the current head curator at the Vatican. It was in rough shape and he asked that I work on it as a favor.”

What can she even say to that? A part of her is jealous, having never left the tristate area, let alone the United States. A part of her is afraid that if she says as much, he’ll buy first-class tickets to Rome that day.

“Do you… travel a lot?” She asks curiously.

“A bit. My job sometimes calls for international business.”

“Where’s your favorite place to go?”

He blinks at the question. “I’m not sure I have one. I enjoy Greece. They have some very rare libraries, as does Rome. I’m afraid I spend most of my time abroad either working or in dusty archives.”

And again, she is struck with the image of the tall and imposing Alpha in dark libraries, pouring over old texts. She wonders, idly, if he wears glasses as he works.

There is a soft melodic sound the fills the house and Helen looks back at John.

"What was that?"

"The doorbell." He says. "I'll go check on that. Feel free to look around."

For some reason, she is almost surprised that he is willing to leave her alone, around his valuables. But he does not even hesitate. He just squeezes her shoulder and goes.

She continues to look around in his workshop slash office. There is a shelf filled with completed projects and Helen picks one at random off the shelf and nearly drops it when she sees that it is The Faerie Queen by Spenser.

Quickly, she reserves it and makes her way to sit down at his desk. She needs to sit, at least for a moment.

What, oh what, had she gotten herself into?

Helen runs her hand through her hair. 

Is this real? She wonders,  _ am I actually considering taking this trial seriously? _

_ So what if I am? He's attractive and smart and, despite being an Alpha, was kind.  _

_ Unless its an act.  _

_ An elaborate and unnecessary one. _

"Fuck." She swears aloud.

Helen pushes to her feet and leaves the office, closing the door behind her. She wanders back down the hall, peeking into both the office that John had said she could use if she wanted. 

It's spacious. There are a handful of boxes on the ornate wooden desk and a few more on the floor but its otherwise unused. He wouldn't even need to move the boxes from the room and it would still be the biggest space she had ever had to work.

Curiosity driving her forward, she crosses the hall to the bathroom. 

She stepped into. Much like John's bathroom, it was lined with dark marble. In one corner, there was a small sauna, made for just a couple of people. The wood looked unbelievably soft.

_ Using that before my time is up. _

Across the room was a small jacuzzi, again, built for no more than two people. The thought didn't upset her.

She wondered what John looked like stripped down to a bathing suit. Would his muscles be even more prominent than they were in the suit?

And again, she felt like she needed to sit down.

Her head felt light and she felt warm. Not yet burning, more like the days before she went into heat. Her chest felt tight, her nipples hard.

Nope. No more thinking about John shirtless. That was not going to help in any way.

She turns around and goes back up the stairs.

John is coming down the stairs as she reaches the main floor, followed by an older gentleman. She stops on the landing, feeling her shoulders pull in warily. She kicks herself for it, hating the gut reaction.

_ I’m stronger than this, goddamnit _ .

She squares her shoulders just as John reaches her, assessing.

Helen offers a small smile and John nods, perceptively. 

“Helen, this is Louis. He takes care of the grounds and, when I’m out of the country, the house.”

Louis reaches the bottom of the stairs. He’s an unmistakable beta with grey hair and bushy eyebrows. He offers a hand with a wide smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“I’ll be heading home now, Mister Wick. Unless you need me.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Louis.”

“He seems sweet,” Helen says when the door has closed behind his caretaker.

“He is. I’ve known him for years. He used to work at a hotel in Manhattan I used to stay at before I moved here. He wanted to retire but was afraid he would be bored so he mows my lawn once a week and trims the hedges.” He shrugs, “Occasionally he runs errands for me.”

“Is that why he was here?”

He catches her chin, tilting her head up. “Pretty and perceptive.”

She wills herself not to flush but knows that it doesn’t make a difference. She feels that familiar heat again invade her body and his nostrils flare in response. John runs a finger across her lower lip and she feels her eyelids flutter shut.

Helen breathes him in again.He smells like amber and pepper and she wants to bury her nose against his neck. She wants to rub her body against his until that scent becomes an intrinsic part of her.

She starts to shake and nearly falls into him but John quickly steps forward, holding her body to his before she can lean.

"Omega…" he whispers, cupping the back of her head.

In all her life, she had never even been tempted by an Alpha. Had all but hated those of his designation. And now, she could feel her body reacting, aching for touch.

"You've done so well, Omega." He tells her, resting his head on hers. His beard prickles the top of her head and it just feels so  _ right.  _ "You've been so brave and you are safe. I won't let anyone harm you." He rubs a hand down her back and keeps whispering to her until her heart rate begins to settle.

Helen exhales, feeling herself come back to the forefront. Her cheeks heat in embarrassment and she tries to back away. "I'm sorry."

His hand slides around to rest on her cheek, “For a natural response to a very stressful day? You woke up this morning prepared to go head to head with Viggo Tarasov. Instead, you had a strange man in your home, demanding to know things about your life, and asking you to leave your home and go an hour away to a strange place. For what it is worth…” He rubs his thumb across her cheek, “I’m sorry. And I promise to do better.”

She’s not sure what to say to that but she doesn’t have to.

John runs his hand down her arm. “Let me start to make it up to you.”

He leads her back up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She blinks and looks up at John in confusion at the sight. There are two large boxes at the end of her bed, along with a handful of large, grey shopping bags.

“Open it.”

Hesitant but curious, she goes to the bags. Each is filled with an assortment of pillows of various sizes and textures. Plush and fur and flannel throw pillows fill two bags while the other two have king-sized pillows that are softer than anything she has ever felt before, and two body pillows made from the same material. There are a dozen pillowcases with different textures and of different colors. The final bag has a velvet backrest.

She looks back at John.

He is watching her from the doorway, something she does not quite recognize in his eyes. He seems happy, content as he watches her unpack the pillows.

Helen opens her mouth but cannot find words. Had she not, just thirty minutes ago, wondered if it was okay to ask John for more pillows in her room? Could he read her mind?

“I-- When?” She asks in awe, “When did you find the time to do all this?”

“I texted Louis while we were at Aurelio’s. I knew that I wasn’t equipped to meet the needs of an Omega.” He steps forward, seemingly unable to allow space between them. “You have agreed to give me twenty-one days to win you, Helen Kingston. And I will use any and every resource at my disposal to do so.”

“This is too much.” She whispers.

He wraps his arms around her from behind. One crosses her stomach, holding her to him and angling her to look at the bed and all her new gifts. The other caresses her neck, his fingers dancing over the mating gland. “ _ Nothing _ is too much for you.”

Helen keens, inhaling shakily in his arms. 

“You have more to open.” He tells her, pulling one of the boxes over. “Anything you like, we can get more of. Anything you don’t like can be tossed.”

She doubts there will be anything she dislikes.

Swallowing, she opens the first box. 

Blankets. Faux fur and fleece. Acrylic, woven in intricate patterns. A blush pink knit throw. A sherpa blanket. One was made of cashmere and felt like butter. At the bottom was a down comforter that melted under her touch and sent chills down her spine.

Without removing his arm from around her stomach, John set the now empty box aside and tugged the last one in front of her.

It was soft grey in color and seemed to be fuzzy. She reached down and was struck by a hard sensation inside. Helen took hold of the edge and lifted. A heavy weighted-blanket, made specifically for Omegas. She had seen them, in stores, and had heard others rave about them. Now, it was here, in her hands.

How did he know?

“Thank you.” She says, looking up.

And she recognizes the look in his eyes.  _ Pride _ . As she delights in these new pleasures, he delights in having provided. 

He had done all this for  _ her _ .

And, God help her, she hadn’t even made it through the day and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him. To fall back into her bed, filled with new fineries, and to pull him atop her.

_ What could it hurt? _ She wonders. To kiss the handsome Alpha? 

John presses his lips to the top of her head. “Why don’t you get settled in?” He takes a step back and she immediately mourns the loss of his warmth. “Unpack, do whatever you need to do. And I’ll go get started on dinner.”

She tilts her head, “You cook?”

He nods, “It’s a nice night. I was thinking I would grill up some salmon for you and steak for me. We can eat outside if you’d like.”

“Yeah. Okay, that sounds really nice.”

He offers her a small smile. “I’ll see you soon.” And he goes, footsteps fading down the hall with every step.

Helen turns back to her bed, now covered with half a dozen blankets and three times as many pillows. More than she had ever owned in her life. And now, they were hers. In her room with the king-sized bed and the bathtub and the balcony and the television. 

She giggles aloud and quickly covers her mouth.

“Fuck.” She swears.

The duffle is on the floor near the door. She sets it on the bureau and begins unpacking. She has a few regular outfits and then she has her school apparel. Omegas in the workplace were expected to dress a certain way, depending on their primary gender. As a female omega, she was expected to wear conservative dresses, stockings, and low-heeled shoes. 

Annoying, but more than worth the privilege of teaching kids. 

She hangs the dresses and puts the rest of the clothes away quickly. Its a short endeavor but a smile reaches her face as she completes the task.

Now, she can move on to her nest.

The one at home was fine. Good, even. But many of the blankets were second hand and the pillows had long since lost their lushness and softness.

But this…

She lays the comforter in the corner of the room, just beneath the window, folding it for maximum softness. 

Next, she takes the king-sized pillows and forms them into the edge. 

Her nest is already bigger than the one from home and she tells herself that it's because of the increased space and not the handsome Alpha.

She uses the body pillows next, adding some structure to the nest. She layers it first with the fleece blanket, then with the sherpa. She lays them out so that every section of the nest is covered.

Helen bites her lip, looking through all her new throw pillows. She chooses a few large ones to go in the corner and spaces the rest out, topping the best with the soft knit throw.

Lastly, she grabs the weighted blanket and sets it around her shoulders. She smiles as makes her way back to the nest and collapses in, a lazy smile gracing her face.

She is resting and relaxed and downstairs, an Alpha is cooking her dinner.

It makes her want to smile and laugh and stay there forever.

_ Cautious, girl _ .  _ This is only the beginning. _

And that thought sobered her. He had told her he wanted her. Maybe this was just doing this to get on her good side.

_ Yeah, because everything else he has done just isn't cutting it. _

She snorts, pulling the weighted blanket tighter around her.

For a man who had never had an omega, John certainly seemed to know exactly what she needed.

Technically, the Omega’s nest was used during heat, but it had other purposes. It offered a sense of comfort and belonging. A place to calm anxieties.

It was almost perfect, she thinks, but the smell was off. Probably because it was all new from the store.

She rubs her head against one of the plush pillows, reveling in its softness.

She wonders if John will let her keep it, at least a few of the pillows when she leaves. After all, he says the car is hers.

Helen tenses at the thought. Leaving.

That was still the plan.

John was a good Alpha but he was still an Alpha. By nature, they were controlling and aggressive and, if that weren't enough, they were favored in the eyes of the law. 

If she stayed, she would eventually have to be put under John's guardianship. And there were certainly pros to that.

For starters, she was getting older. The principal at her school kept asking about bringing her father around to events. And eventually, her father's life expectancy would be up.

She couldn't keep it a secret forever. Someone else would figure it out and she would either be forced to submit or forced to run. John solved that.

Staying is certainly a benefit in itself. Regular meals. Having a large space and a yard and a bathtub…

Not to mention, she had seen the way he looked at her. Had seen the way his eyes darkened when she mentioned her upcoming heat. It was painful to go through alone but with John….

Helen feels her nipples harden again and she shifts uncomfortably at the sudden pool of wetness.

She runs her hand down her chest, skimming over her breasts. Her fingers graze her stomach and Helen's eyes flutter shut.

Would John be that gentle?

Maybe.

She slips her hand into the waistband of her panties. They had been damp all day but now, they were practically ruined.

With her middle finger, she runs slow circles around her clit. Would John's hands feel rougher against her smooth skin?

Helen dips her fingers down, pressing them into her opening and sighing at the touch. She can smell her own desire and resists the urge to groan.

It doesn’t take much, pretending that her fingers are his, that it's John resting above her, in her nest. Whispering dirty things to her, telling her what sweet little Omega she is… how good she is for her Alpha as he prepares her for his thick, large knot.

She whimpers, turning her face into the pillow to let out a moan as she comes on her own fingers.

Her pussy clenches around nothing, almost mourning the loss of the knot she hadn’t taken.

Helen opens her eyes, feeling far more relaxed than she had all day. Being in such close quarters with such a powerful Alpha must have affected her more than she realized. And John was certainly an attractive man.

_ Would John be able to smell this? _ Her cheeks flare and she stops herself, dragging her fingers back up.

He was an Alpha. A strong one. He would be able to scent her arousal, if he hadn’t already. 

“Fuck.” She swears and rises to her feet, careful not to touch her nest with her wet fingers. She hurries to the bathroom and washes her hands quickly.

It won’t be enough. She turns on the water in the shower and strips from her clothes, tucking them in the corner of the bathroom.

She showers quickly, cloaking her body in the soap from his guest room, before going back to her closet to find something to wear for dinner.

John is in a suit. She had been walking around all day with him with slacks and a t-shirt. It didn’t seem to fit. She dries her hair with a towel the best she can.

She picks a blue dress with thick straps and a thin silver belt that matches the sipper. Helen slips into it and pulls the zipper up, just as she hears a honking from outside.

Slipping on a pair of her work shoes, she heads back down the stairs. 

She’s seen it a few times now but his living room still shocks her. The sheer size of it is astounding and almost causes her to falter, but she continues into the kitchen. The back door is open and John is out on the patio with Aurelio.

John is already looking at the door when she comes into view, as if he could sense her very presence. She wonders if he can hear her heart beating loudly in her chest.

Aurelio turns, following John’s line of sight and grins. “Hey, pretty lady.”

“Hi Aurelio,” Helen says, joining them on the patio.

It’s huge, with an upper and lower half. They stand on the upper, where a small cafe-style table is set for two. Complete with candles, a salad filled with dark greens, and a bowl of rice.

John is standing over the grill, his vest discarded on one of the chairs and his sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms.

“You look breathtaking,” John tells her, eyes darkening.

She offers a small smile.

“O-kay.” Aurelio waggles an eyebrow, “Car is in the garage, the keys and the title are on the kitchen table. The rest of the papers are all in the glovebox. Have a good night, kids.”

Helen watches as Aurelio walks around the side of the house, back towards the driveway. The moment Aurelio is out of sight, she feels herself being pushed backward. Her head swings to look at John, meeting his dark gaze just as her back meets the wall.

Her breath stutters in her chest as John catches her right hand and brings it up to his mouth. He inhales, watching her as he does so, before sliding the fingers she had used to pleasure herself into his mouth.

His tongue circles the digits but he still does not look away, sucking on each finger like a hungry man.

“Did you have a nice  _ shower _ ?”

Her cheeks flame as John continues to kiss down her fingers, to her palm. He turns her hand so that the palm is up and nips at it with his teeth.

She sways on her feet but John holds her firmly against the wall, taking advantage of her exposed neck. He licks a long stripe, sucking teasingly at her mating gland.

Helen keens, resisting the urge to rub her still tender center against his leg.

His hands feel so good, holding her, squeezing her. She wants more but  _ no _ . No. She doesn’t know him, even if she appreciates his kindness and understanding and the way his ass looks in those tailored pants.

_ So why,  _ she wonders,  _ am I acting like a teenage Omega going through my first heat? _

Almost as if he can read her mind, John helps steady her on her feet. He presses a kiss to her forehead tenderly and backs up, giving her space.

“Dinner is almost done.” He tells her, “Do you want some wine?”

_ Fuck yes _ .

“Please.”

He nods, returning to the kitchen.

She exhales slowly and makes her way to the table. 

His backyard is gorgeous, she notes, taking a seat. She has a view of the pool from here, and also a gorgeous array of trees. A much better view than the brick she was used to seeing each and every day.

John returns a moment later with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. She doesn’t recognize the language but the label is in French.

She doesn’t ask about it. She doesn’t want to know it’s origins or admit to him that it is probably going to be wasted on her pallet. 

John pops the cork with a practiced ease and pours two glasses. He hands Helen the first and she eagerly accepts. 

The incredibly attractive man who was cooking her dinner, who she had been thinking of with her eyes closed and hands down her panties, knew exactly what she had been up to. Upstairs, in his house. In the nest made of materials he had provided for her. He knew.

And she needed a drink.

“You don’t strike me as a wine drinker.” She says, taking a sip of the wine.

It’s soft and fruity and tastes delicious. Sweet and yielding.

“I prefer bourbon.” He admits, returning to the grill. He opens it and steam and smoke rise together in a cloud. He flips a piece of steak and flames shoot up briefly. He has a practiced hand at this, she notes, as well as everything. “But sometimes I crave the taste of something a little… sweeter.”

Her cheeks heat again but she holds his gaze. She’s not going to allow herself to be embarrassed by something so natural. Instead, she gulps down a mouthful of wine, looks at the Alpha dead in the eye, and shrugs a shoulder. “Well, it’s like you said… A natural response to a stressful day.”

He looks back to the grill, smirking. He takes a plate and transfers a filet of salmon from the cedar plank. He garnishes it with a thin slice of lemon and brings it over.

John stands behind her, lowering the plate in front of her, and bending low to whisper in her ear, “Let me know if you need help managing… the stress.”

His breath is hot on her neck and she curses herself as another wave of heat warms her core. 

John inhales, letting her know that  _ yes _ , he can smell her arousal, but otherwise says nothing. He stands back up and goes back to the grill. He plates his steak and a baked potato wrapped in tinfoil and covers the grill back up.

He takes his seat across from her. She eagerly fills her place with rice and salad and flushes under his approving gaze. 

She knows she’s a bit on the thin side for an Omega and that she is all too familiar with the emptiness of hunger. Helen is used to rationing out her food so that there is just enough to have two meals a day. Already, she had two meals that day and was sitting down to a third.

The thought makes her smile as she takes a bite of the salmon.

_ Amazing _ . John had seasoned it to perfection and it melted on her tongue. 

“This is incredible.” She tells him, “Where did you learn to cook?”

“I grew up in an orphanage.” He admits and she has to work to keep the shock of her face. He was so used to luxury, so comfortable with spending money, it hadn’t occurred to her that John had not grown up with wealth.

He continues, “Kitchen duty was universally hated and, thus, became a common punishment for acting out. I got in a fair amount of fights in my younger years and became well acquainted with the kitchen.”

“Fights?” She asks and John shrugs, cutting into his steak.

“It was a competitive setting. Believe it or not, I was a small kid.”

“You weren’t!” She runs her eyes over his wide torso in disbelief.

“I was a runt.” He inclines his head, “Until I was twelve and hit a growth spurt. But the kids at the orphanage were tough. Picked on me because I was the smallest and I learned how to hold my own. Unfortunately,” John grins, “Holding my own got me peeling potatoes most days.”

“Wow. Did you grow up in New York?”

“Eventually. I was born and raised in Belarus for the first ten years of my life.”

It was as if every word he spoke was slowly dismantling her thoughts on the man before her. 

_ An orphan?  _ That alone blew her mind, leaving her with countless questions that the curious Omega inside of her longed to ask. 

“It’s alright.” He says, eyeing her with a smile, “Ask away.”

“Your parents? And what was it like in the orphanage? And why did you come to the US? Were you adopted?"

"I don't know anything about my parents. Just that I was left on the doorsteps of a church and taken to the orphanage. And the orphanage was shitty. There weren't enough beds and the staff ranged from some very caring but overworked Omegas to some Alphas who shouldn't have been around children.

"As for the US, the Director of the Orphanage decided to come over here to make money. She chose a dozen of us to take in the beginning. A few bigger kids for protection, and a few of us smaller ones who were fast runners."

"Drug running?"

"Guns. I was ten when I started. Fifteen when I ran away."

"Had you presented yet?"

"No, and I was afraid I was going to and get trapped into the business.”

Helen’s hand crosses the table and she places it atop his. John blinks, almost startled at the touch, but quickly turns his hand around so that he can squeeze hers back.

“Where did you go?” She asks softly.

“All around. Boston. Then Chicago, then Sante Fe. Mexico for a little while. Then up and down California.”

“You weren’t in school?”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t in the cards. I was educated a bit in Belarus and then, when we came to New York, we all had to stop. Too busy with gang stuff to worry about education.” He squeezes her hand again, “I would have killed to have someone like you stand up for me when I was stuck in that world. Peter Ilichov is a lucky young man.”

“He deserves better. You deserved better. I’m sorry you went through all that alone.”

“Sometimes our circumstances are unfair and all we can do is our best.” He gives her a pointed look and Helen bows her head slightly, in recognition.

She takes her hand back and reaches for the wine. “Touche. How did you end up getting into bookbinding?”

“That came a bit later, after I learned to read and write in English and got my GED. I was in the Marines and…”

“Whoa, whoa. Backtrack.” Helen shakes her head, “Did we just go from little runt to gun runner to teenage runaway to the… Marines?”

John laughs lightly as he nods, “Yeah, that makes it sound more complicated than it actually was.”

“I somehow doubt that.” She nods back, a wide smile on her face.

_ I’m smiling _ , she realizes.  _ I’m actually enjoying this. _

She didn’t want to be miserable for the next three weeks but, damn it, that would make it far easier to walk away. 

Could they be friends, after all of this? 

Maybe.

“Okay, how did you end up in the Marines after all that?”

“Again, not that complicated. I just decided, one day, that I was done with the nomadic life and I knew that I needed to save money to be able to live anywhere. I knew that the military would give me the opportunity to study more and save money while giving me food and housing. It wasn’t ideal but I was good at what I did.”

Helen nods, thoughtfully. “I’m not… judging. But I am curious.” She meets his eyes, “You went from running guns as a teenager, to joining the Marines, then somehow, landed back working for the same kind of place you ran away from in the beginning?”

John swallows his food and takes a sip of wine before replying. “Technically, I don’t work for Tarasov. I have an open contract with him. But I understand your point. And I think the answer comes down to choice and agency. Had I stayed in New York as a teenager, I would still be doing now the exact same thing I would have been doing at sixteen.”

“And what is it you’re doing now?”

He narrows his eyes and almost teasingly replies, “I thought we were saving that conversation for tomorrow?”

“Is it really so bad? I already know you work with Tarasov and I think we both know where  _ he _ stands in my books.”

He pauses again as if he’s trying to find the words. “Honestly? I don’t know how you’re going to react. You have a way of crashing into my expectations like a freight train.” She smiles softly and he continues, “But, we have also established that today has been very… stressful.” Helen rolls her eyes, “I don’t think another day could hurt.”

“I understand your perspective. However, I’ve already agreed to stay here for three weeks. You’ve upheld your end of the bargain, so I  _ will  _ uphold mine.”

“I don’t doubt your word.”

“Then you doubt my resolve?” She fires back, “I assure you, John, I won’t break. And if you truly wish to continue to put this off, I told you I would not argue, but I think we should just get everything out onto the table, now.”

The Alpha across from her sits back in his chair. He’s considering it.

Finally, John takes the bottle of wine. He reaches across the table and tops of Helen’s glass, filling it far over the serving.

“Alright.” He says, “Last chance.”

Helen sets down her fork on her plate and leans back, as well, matching his posture. Waiting. Honestly, what could he possibly say to shock her more than anything else he had revealed at dinner?

“I’m an assassin.”

_ Well, there’s that. _

Her mind was reeling. An assassin, working casually with Viggo Tarasov and the Russian Mafia. The man who had cooked her dinner had killed others for money and, by his ability to buy her a car at the drop of a hat, he had either killed a lot of people, or your average murder was going for a lot more than it had in the past.

But then, what had his options been? 

Abandoned since the day he was born. Fighting for his life for being so small, only to get tough and have the people who were supposed to protect him turn him into a gun runner. He had tried to escape, tried to run away, only to find himself in the military, being professionally trained to kill. 

She regards him carefully. His face is blank but his eyes are intently focused upon her. He is waiting for a reaction.

_ Is his Alpha poised to chase me should I run? _

And then she recognizes something different. His scent has changed, even if it is extremely faint. That musky amber has taken on a woody scent, like sandalwood.

Her eyes land on his neck. His pulse is beating rapidly.

Even now, John was prepared for the absolute worst to happen.

Helen sits up in her chair and picks up her fork. “Oh.” She says and resumes eating.

John blinks twice, uncertainty lining his face. “ _ Oh? _ ” He repeats.

She shrugs a shoulder, swallowing the bite of rice. “It makes sense, I suppose. Given your circumstances. It seems like a great deal of your life was spent adapting and learning how to survive. I can see how that can eventually morph into an apex predator kind of mentality, especially with your military background.”

She takes another bite of rice as poor John seems to be struggling to put all that together. 

“Besides,” She says after a few moments, “I’m really not in any place to judge considering I slit someone’s throat before he could reveal my identity.”

“Someone who was trying to attack you.” John justifies.

“Yes, but I could have just cut his dick off.” His mouth drops open at that and Helen simply shrugs again, “I could have just stabbed him and let myself fall back into the system of unguarded and unmated Omegas. I made a choice, based on the circumstances I was given. So did you.”

John considers that.

“So you don’t have a problem with the fact I kill people for a living?”

“Not really. I suppose it’s rather dangerous.”

“It can be.” And, again, the poor man just doesn’t seem to know how to respond. His answers come out slowly as he tries to distinguish exactly what is going on.

She nodes to herself. Assassin.

In a warped way, it fits.

He was a strong Alpha who had grown up without a lot of guidance. He made his own way in the world and, despite the odds, had gone from being a tiny orphan in Belarus to a successful man in the United States.

“How much do hits go for nowadays?”

With every sentence out of her mouth, she seems to be putting John further into shock.

“It, uh, depends. On the hit and who they are in the world. If there are bodyguards and if the contract is open or not. International hits often go for more.”

She nods thoughtfully, “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything when I talked about hiding my father’s body parts across the Pine Barrens.”

“I almost did. Even dismembered, there are still technologies that could reveal who he was if even a hand or the skull was found.”

“I sliced each of his fingerprints. And his head his buried six feet deep. I highly doubt that anyone would find him, but I have contingencies in place in case I have to run.”

“Run?” John’s eyes narrow and he sits up in his chair.

Helen shrugs, “I know I can’t keep his death a secret forever. One day, someone will come calling or will file a report against me and somebody will figure out that I’m an unguarded and unmated Omega. I have a couple of storage lockers over the city.”

“And you’ll go where?”

“Wherever I have to.”

“Rather than be mated?” And she can tell that he is genuinely curious asking the question and not taking offense.

“Rather than have my life stripped away. I’m a teacher. I worked hard to become a teacher. I’ve worked hard to live my life on my terms. And what Alpha can handle a mate they can’t control?”

John didn't say it aloud but he knew the answer. The Alpha wise enough to know not to let a once-in-a-lifetime Omega slip from his grasp.


	3. Learning You

John is a perfect gentleman throughout the rest of the evening. Beyond perfect, cleaning up the dinner and telling her, repeatedly, to sit down and enjoy her wine. Instead, she helps, but he tries to take on the brunt of the work.

He asks her if there is anything she wants to do and she asks if he has any movies. He has a few, but he teaches her how to use the remote to stream any movie or show that she wishes and she eagerly picks an old documentary on Alexander the Great.

They make it five minutes in when Helen shoots up, suddenly remembering something. She tells John, “I’ll be right back!” And rushes up the stairs and down the hall.

He waits, in idle fascination, for her to return, never taking his eyes from the stairs. 

She hurries back down holding one of her new throw pillows and the cashmere blanket she seemed so fond of. She sets the pillow at one end of the couch and leans into it, smiling as she does. She tucks the cashmere around herself, looking so content that it makes John’s heart swell with pride. 

That was _his_ Omega. 

Wrapped in a blanket that he had provided for her.

She watches the television and he watches her. She is utterly transfixed by history and excitedly offers facts as they come up in the documentary. Some he knows, some he doesn't, but regardless, he answers with _really?_

When its over, they switch to a documentary on Pompeii. She sighs at the aerial shots and John wonders when the next school vacation is and if she has a passport because she would thrive in Greece.

She is still interested but the long day still seems to be getting to her. She seems to be struggling to keep her eyes open until, finally, she drifts to sleep on his couch.

John pauses the movie and regards his little Omega. Her face is so relaxed as she sleeps, but she remains just as beautiful.

Stunning, clever, understanding… he meant what he said at dinner. He would not let her slip from his grasp. 

John Wick did not believe in fate. He had never believed in true mates before but the moment he caught her scent, he had known. Through and through, balls to bones. Helen was meant for him. And he was going to do everything in his power to earn her.

He watches her for a little while, content to see her breathe and rest in his home. _Their home_ , he thinks, if she would have it. 

When the clock chimes on the hour, however, he scoops the tiny Omega into his arms.

She sighs, immediately rolling into him. She nuzzles her head against his neck and inhales deeply.

John smiles, he cannot help it. 

_I get it, sweet Helen._

He ensures the cashmere remains wrapped around her and he carries her up the stairs. He walks slowly, telling himself that it is so he does not wake her and not because he cannot bear to part with her.

John reaches the doors, right next to each other. He longs to go straight and take her to his bed. _Our bed_. But not yet. Soon.

He takes her to the room she will sleep in and almost stumbles as he walks through the door.

He knew what she had done earlier. He could smell her arousal all over her, even if she had tried to shower it away. But now, the entire room smelled like maple and slick. John breathes it in and wonders, _did she think of me as she touched herself in the nest that I provided?_

He exhales and walks over to the bed. There are still a handful of throw pillows on the bed as well as a few of the blankets he had provided for her. He pushes them off, at the end of the bed and pulls back the covers.

The blankets on the bed were basic. He hopes it will be enough to keep his sweet Omega comfortable throughout the night.

John lowers her to the bed and her grip tightens around his neck and she sleepily whines as he lets her go. Her lips form a sleepy pout as she curls onto her side.

Soon, he tells himself as he tucks her in, he will not leave her when she goes to sleep. Soon, she will be at his side always and her time apart from him will only be a memory. 

“Sweet dreams, my Omega.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her head.

…

Helen is on a cloud. That must be the explanation for why she feels as if she is floating, encased in softness. And warm. It’s warm and gentle and she smells a slight musk that makes her shift, rubbing her legs together.

Her eyes open and she is not in her bedroom. She blinks awake.

No, this isn’t her apartment. It’s too clean and soft and smells far too good. She looks around. On her bedside table is a vase filled with daisies that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. 

Yesterday. The events of the previous day came soaring back in. Going to confront Tarasov, being carried out by a stranger with whom she had made a deal. Twenty-one days for his silence and for Peter’s freedom.

She can’t help but think that she has the better end of the deal, sleeping in a bed that is soft rather than lumpy. Being provided with blankets and luxuries.

She inhales and smells something sweet flowing through the house.

Helen rises to her feet, stretching. She brushes her teeth and quickly changes from her dress from last night and into a new one. Today, she chooses a simple sundress. One she rarely wears to school due to its shorter length. It’s floral with a lined bodice.

Quickly, she runs a comb through her hair and brushes her teeth before following the sweet smell downstairs.

She finds John in the kitchen, standing over the stove.

The sight throws her off, even after John had made dinner the night before. Her own father would never be seen in the kitchen unless he was getting a beer or eating a meal prepared by someone else. 

She had always thought of her father as being progressive when it comes to Omega’s rights. He pushed her to pursue higher education, was outspoken about Omega’s having the right to vote and even talked about Omega’s being free from guardianship. But, Hank Kingston had always maintained that Omega’s had duties that must be fulfilled in the household.

Hank Kingston wouldn’t be caught dead cooking breakfast or cleaning his house.

The man didn’t even make his own cereal.

And yet here stood John Wick, the strongest and possibly the most intimidating Alpha she has ever met, flipping French toast.

“Good morning.” 

“Morning.” She yawns, rubbing her eyes.

John smiles, pushing a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. “Coffee?”

She nods, resting her head against his hand. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m dead in the morning without it.”

“It’s okay.” He says and he means it. It’s endearing to have his sleepy Omega in such close quarters. “Come here.”

John places his hands on her hips and easily lifts her into the air.

“John.” She says, laughing softly as he sits her on the island bar. 

“How do you like your coffee?”

“A splash of milk and sugar.”

“Coming right up.” He places a soft kiss on her cheek. “You look lovely this morning.”

“Thank you.” She whispers and John goes across the kitchen to the coffee maker.

He’s in pajama pants and a plain white shirt this morning. She wonders if that’s what he sleeps in. He looks nice. The t-shirt is form fitting and highlights the muscles on his torso. She also makes out the outline of dark tattoos on his back.

She wonders what it is but is far too tired to deal with the consequences of asking John to take his shirt off.

He turns and she notices another tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. John makes his way to the fridge and pours a splash of milk into her coffee. He puts the milk away and pulls out a bowl of berries. He places the berries next to her and hands Helen the coffee.

Just the smell has her perking up.

“Thanks.” She sips the coffee and is delighted that it’s strong.

“Of course.” He goes back to the stove and adds the toast to the done pile before adding another slice to the skillet. “Is there anything you want to do today?”

“No, but I do have to review my lesson plans for tomorrow." She downs half the cup in one go, "That shouldn’t take too long, though.”

“What are you teaching about tomorrow?”

"The students are reading Lysistrata."

He glances back, "I'm surprised. That book is banned in a lot of places."

"Oh, it's banned at the school, too. I had to buy the books out of pocket. I think its an important read and the kids deserve to know that Omegas can have agency."

"And you didn't get in trouble?"

"Oh, constantly, but I know when to toe the line."

"Really?" He flips the toast, "even when you storm into the office of the mafia making demands?"

"The line disappears entirely when my kids are involved." There's a sharpness in her tone that fills him with pride. His Omega is fierce.

He turns to look at her, as she pops a raspberry into her mouth.

“What?” She asks, suddenly under his scrutiny. “You doubt me?”

“Never.” He promises, stepping closer so that he stands in front of her. “I told you yesterday, it would have meant the world to me if someone like you had gone to bat for me when I was stuck there.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be.”

“I’m not.” John sets a hand on her leg, leaning in closer. “Because then, you wouldn’t be here.”

He kisses her forehead and Helen sighs softly at the contact. His lips are warm and lingering and she has to resist the urge to reciprocate.

John turns back, his hand trailing down her leg as he goes. 

She doesn't exhale until he reaches the stove, plating the last of the toast.

"Do you want maple syrup?"

"Yes please."

John handed her a plate and Helen accepted, walking back to the back nook. She turns, looking back to John. “Can we eat outside?”

“Of course.”

She shifts her coffee to her arm and pushes open the back door. It’s a bit cool outside but she doesn’t mind. Not when the air is so clean and fresh and the view is something other than smog. John follows her out with his own plate, syrup, and berries.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re very welcome.” He sits across from her. 

She takes a bite of the French toast and has to hold back a moan. It is just not fair that he is _that_ good at cooking.

They eat in a companionate silence and Helen revels in the open environment. She watches as the sun rises over the trees and John is completely content to watch her as she sips her coffee and eats her syrup-soaked French toast.

John takes her plate when she finishes eating, clearing the table while Helen takes their mugs. “Do you want more coffee?” She asks.

“Please.”

“Let me guess… black?”

He turns and throws a wink at her. He can’t remember the last time he winked at anybody but playing with her is as easy as breathing.

He sets the plates in the sink and starts scrubbing the frying pan, running the water over Helen’s sticky plate.

“So other than reviewing Lysistrata, do you have anything you’d like to do?” He calls over his shoulder.

“No. Maybe finish the documentary?” 

“We can do that.” John looks on affectionately, “Any interest in going to the beach today?”

She glances up, her eyes alight, and John knows he has scored with that suggestion. Helen places his coffee on the counter and goes to the fridge to fix hers.

“I’ve never thought of Lysistrata as a beach read but why not?”

And, god, she is such a _delight_. He would bet anything that she looks stunning staring out at the horizon. He’ll take her to the ocean and watch her read with her delicate toes in the sand. Then he’ll take her to dinner and make sure that the wine he orders is sweet enough for her palate. And when she is full and sated, he’ll take her home.

“God, I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach.”

_Every weekend. Every night. We can move to the coast if the sea makes you happy._

“What will you bring?” She clarifies, “To read at the beach?”

He sets the pan aside, switching to rinsing each of their plates, considering her question. He had just started von Clausewitz _On War_ a few nights ago but his interests had taken a sharp turn since then. Perhaps it was time to take a break from military strategy and focus his attention on something far more interesting and beautiful.

He glances back at her, over his shoulder, “I think I’ll re-read the _Iliad_.”

Helen nods, knowingly. A smile plays on her lips and, god, does he want that smile pressed against his.

“Well-played, Mister Wick. Do you favor any translation?”

“I can’t claim to be an expert on such ancient classics but I have enjoyed Fagles.”

“I prefer Lattimore,” She picks up a towel to dry. He hands her the first of the plates, “although I admit it's the one I’ve read the most as it's what the school provides for the kids. Do you know what frustrates me the most about that story?”

“Tell me.” She sets the plate down and takes the second from his hand.

“Helen of _Troy_. Supposedly, the most beautiful woman and perfect Omega in the world and she is still remembered by her misnomer. She is known as Helen of Troy, because her Alpha captor was from Troy. Before that, there are texts that mark her as Helen of Greece, because her Alpha husband was from Greece. But Helen--”

“Was from Sparta. The most feared people.” 

She rewards that bit of knowledge with a smile and continues, “And, they were one of the first people to allow Omegas to be educated. They were expected to be just as strong as anyone else. People always seem to forget that when they talk about Helen.” Helen stops, thoughtfully, drying her own hands on the towel, “I always felt rather sorry for her. Such a powerful Omega, the fulcrum of a war that cost thousands of lives, just remembered for her face. That was the real tragedy.”

“She deserved better.” John took her hand and they left the kitchen, heading back towards the living room.

“Maybe, but deserving assumes some sort of cosmic balance, where doing good means receiving good and doing bad means receiving bad. And we live in a society that still argues the definitions of good and evil.” Helen sits back on the couch, against her pillow, setting her coffee to the side, “I just wish we could have heard more about her story.”

“Have you ever talked to your students about Helen when you’re teaching Homer?”

“Oh, constantly. I’m sure they think I’m a little crazy.” She shrugs a shoulder and John smiles, “Especially now that we’re reading Lysistrata. I had to send out permission slips to the parents to allow their children to read such a,” She holds up her fingers in quotation marks, “ _graphic text._ ”

“It’s literature!”

“Half the school board was concerned that it was borderline pornographic, the other half were upset by feminist and Omeganist content.” She huffs a breath and rolls her eyes, “As if that’s a crime. I just wish my Omega kids had better role models to look up to.”

John reaches out a hand and cups her face, utterly transfixed by just how soft skin could be. He meets her eyes and reminds her, “They have you.”

Helen bites her lip then lets it fall from her teeth, “I’m not exactly the best role model.”

“You fight for those kids every day. You fight for them to learn that they all have choices by giving them material that will challenge their perceptions. You brought a fight to one of the biggest bullies I’ve ever met, prepared to go to war over a single one of those kids. And you fight, every day of your life, doing all that you’ve done, to prove to them they have choice. What better role model could they have?”

And he is just so sincere, so serious in every word that he says.

Choice. 

It all came down to choice.

They made a deal, twenty-one days. Now twenty. And that deal wasn’t up but she still had her agency. She could still make choices. Still live this on _her_ terms.

Helen launches forward, rising on her knees and closing the distance between them. 

John is stunned into stillness but quickly realizes that Helen Kingston, _his Omega_ , is kissing him. He wraps her into his arms, cupping the back of her head and deepening their kiss. He sits back into the couch, dragging Helen with him and onto his lap.

She straddles him, leaning her body into his.

Helen tastes like maple syrup and John wonders if it's from breakfast or if she always tastes so sweet.

She moans as he sucks on her tongue and rolls her hips against him, feeling that familiar sensation of heat and arousal take over again.

Her body wants him, but God, help her, her mind wants him _more_.

“John, you’re not going to believe the rumors flying around the Cont-- Jesus fuck!”

They break apart at the interruption, breathing heavily. Helen feels her breath stutter in her chest and John’s eyes are darkened. 

She’s unsure if it's arousal for her or anger towards the man who had just come around the corner in John’s house. 

“Marcus.” John says darkly, “I don’t recall inviting you in.”

Helen slides off of John’s lap but he doesn’t let her get far, wrapping his arm around her waist tightly as she tries to scramble away. Though John was many things, he clearly wasn’t embarrassed. 

His other hand reaches for hers and he squeezes it in comfort. Immediately, she feels herself relax, her shoulders deflating from the surprise of their interruption.

“Then lock your damn door,” Marcus says, looking between them. “The rumors are true, then? You and Tarasov went at it over an Omega?”

Helen scoffs, rolling her eyes. “First of all,” She says, glaring at the new arrival, “the Omega has a name. It’s Helen. And second, if anyone went at it, it was me and Tarasov. John barely did shit.”

John looks down at her, raising an eyebrow. “I got you out of that room alive.”

“You want to play around and see what I can do with a knife? Be my guest.”

"Hmmm," he grins, squeezing her closer, “maybe later."

“I--” Marcus continues to look from John to Helen and back again.

“Is he usually so slow?” Helen asks, looking up at John.

“Yes, he is.” He presses a kiss to her head and starts to stand, “Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll chat with Marcus. We’ll head out in half an hour?”

“Sounds good.” Helen stands and starts walking towards the stairs, “Nice to meet you, Marcus.”

“Yeah, you too,” Marcus says slowly watching her until the Omega is out of sight. Then, “What the hell, John?”

“Come on,” John says, following Helen up the stairs but veering towards the study, followed by Marcus. His friend closes the door and throws his arms up in the air.

"Who knows?" John asks before Marcus can start.

"Who knows? Who doesn't, John? My phone has been going off all morning. _Perkins_ somehow got my number to text me. Winston called me when you wouldn't pick up your phone."

"I turned it off when the calls started coming in." John admits, "what did Winston say?"

"The old man asked me if it was true. I assured him it couldn't be. John Wick may be an idiot but even he isn't stupid enough to stake a formal Claim on a stranger!"

"Jokes on you there."

"I didn't think you were even wired like that."

"Like what?"

"Sexually." John snorts and Marcus shakes his head, "laugh it up but I have never once seen you show interest in anyone. Male, female. Alpha, beta, Omega. You’ve never even seemed domestic enough to settle down. How did this even happen?"

John sits at his desk, leaning back into his chair. “She’s a teacher. One of her students dropped out to run drugs for Tarasov and she went to talk to him to get the kid back in school.”

“She went to talk to Tarasov?”

“Yes. With a knife.”

“That little Omega?” Marcus says, the shock written across his face. “No way.”

“Don’t underestimate her based on her secondary sex. She’s fierce.”

His friend rolled his eyes, taking the seat across from John. “I didn’t come here to debate Omega rights with you, John. I came here to have a good laugh over what should have been a stupid rumor!”

“Would you like me to reimburse you for the travel costs?”

“Fuck off." Marcus shakes his head, "Do you have a plan to keep her safe? Because you may have saved her from Tarasov but that just sends her out of the frying pan and into the fire."

John’s hackles rise at the implication and he growls out, “ _No one’s going to touch her._ ” 

“Can you make that promise? The Claim will protect her from some but you’re one of the most dangerous men in New York City and one of the things that makes you so dangerous is that you don’t have a weakness. Well, you just revealed your Achilles heel to the world.”

“I will keep her safe.”

“You better be damn sure of that.”

“I am!” John leans forward, “I’m not so naive as to think that no one will come for her but I am certain that no one will ever lay a finger on her. And anyone who dares will see what can happen when I’m pissed off.”

Marcus sighs, “I’m just trying to look out for you, John.”

“And I appreciate that. I admit I am concerned that she may be a target, but I will protect my Omega.”

“You met her yesterday.” And it’s not meant offensively or in disbelief. His words drip in wonder, like a puzzle he can’t quite seem to put together.

“She is my mate. My True Mate.”

“That’s a myth.”

“It’s not.” John shakes his head, his lips twitching in a small wondrous smile, “I know that I am the last man on earth or deserves to be blessed with a True Mate, but she is mine. And I am hers. I smelled it before she even walked into the room yesterday. I was ready to kill Tarasov and his army over that scent alone.”

“That’s lust.”

“It’s me.” John reminds Marcus, repeating his earlier allegation, “To an extent, you were right. I’ve never been someone sexually driven or motivated. Nothing has ever felt right so I figured maybe I just wasn’t built for that kind of relationship or that life. And then I scented her and saw her and it was like a switch in my head flipped.”

"It doesn't happen like that."

"But it did."

Marcus assesses his friend, a man he has known for more than ten years. A man who, in that time, had never considered taking a mate. Had never pursued a partner or mentioned interest. Who now sat before him looking eerily calm.

_God help the man who tries to hurt John Wick's Omega._

…

Helen is downstairs when they left the study. The cashmere blanket is wrapped around her shoulders and John makes a mental note to buy her a sweater of the same material. Or a dozen.

She has her legs curled beneath her and it's the first time that John has seen her wearing glasses. They perch on her nose and he longs to just watch her read along, a pen between bouncing in her hand.

She glances over the edge as she sees them coming down the stairs. Helen smiles and he is ruined.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Marcus tells her as John walks him to the door and she gives a small wave. They reach the door and he turns to John, "She truly is lovely."

"If you hear anything about her…"

"I'll let you know. Just turn your phone on and, for the love of all that is good, call Winston."

"I will tomorrow." He promises, closing the door as Marcus heads back to his car.

He walks back down the hall and takes in his Omega.

She smiles up at him as he walks in and his heart swells with pride. That smile is for _him_. He has earned it and he will continue to earn it.

"Are you ready?" He asks, walking over to the back of the couch and reaches out to stroke her hair.

She nuzzles his hand, "mhmm."

He frowns. She has a towel and has put on sandals but has not changed.

"Do you have your bathing suit?"

"I don't have one. I figured I could just wade in this."

He says nothing, mind running quickly through the nearby stores or the places on the way when she says, "no."

"No?" He repeats.

"You are not taking me to get a swimsuit." She tells him. "I'm fine in this."

"And for the pool?" He is certain she won't be on board with his plan to swim in the privacy of his pool without clothes.

"I can wear shorts and a tank top."

"I'm buying you a swimsuit."

"You're not." She flips the page in her worn copy of Lysistrata. The margins are filled with notes.

John walks around to the other side of the couch, kneeling next to her. "Please?"

"It's unnecessary."

"For me?" He takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it.

"You want me to let you buy me things… for you?" She questions, not looking up.

"Yes." His lips trail up her arm, pressing kisses all the way, "Please?"

Helen glances over her book, "Is this an Alpha/provider thing?"

"In part." He admits, "I'd estimate 33%."

"And the other 66?"

"33% an Alpha thing, 33% trying to get you in a skimpy bikini" Helen snorts and John smiles, "and 33% wanting you to be able to have fun, at the beach and here, without messing up your clothes. I'm willing to admit my reasons are all selfish if you agree to let me buy it."

"And only if I agree?" Helen smirks, rolling her eyes, "okay. Fine. But just a bathing suit." 

He kisses her head and stands up, "No promises. Give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go."

He runs upstairs, quickly exchanging his pajama pants for swim trunks.

He turns on his phone, wincing at the near-constant vibration as he gets an influx of messages at once. He avoids looking at them, pulling up a quick Google search for bathing suit shops near the coast.

John picks a boutique and memorizes the directions. 

He hurries back downstairs, his Omega still reading.

"Hel?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's your phone number?"

She recites the digits and he adds it to his phone, placing her immediately on speed dial and sending her a text so she would have his number.

"I sent you mine."

There is a beep and she moves her towel to the side, picking up a small Nokia.

"Telling you right now, I don't text." But she adds him.

It's an older model and John fires off another text to Louis, this time, to pick her up a new phone. A smart one.

Cashmere sweaters.

A new copy of Lysistrata, one that doesn't have a broken spine and torn pages.

Now his biggest problem will be to get her to accept it.

"Would you like to take your car or mine?" John asks her.

"Doesn't matter."

"Do you want to drive."

She looks up, closing her book. "You'd let me drive?"

John smirks, "I wasn't aware there was "letting" you do anything."

"There's not." She quickly says, "But most Alphas have a thing about compensating with their cars."

"I have nothing I need to compensate for." And saying that is worth it for the way her face flushes and the sharp smell of arousal that permeates the air. "So would you like to drive or would you like me to?"

"I'll drive." 

The look in her eyes makes him think it's a test. As if she is really waiting for him to change his mind or give her a hard time and he knows that a lot of Alphas are assholes, but Jesus, it has never occurred to him just how overbearing his secondary sex was.

It was sickening to think.

He turns the corner to the key bowl and takes out her new key set and tosses it to her. 

She catches it easily and he earns another smile and follows him to the garage.

Her car. She has a car. Not just any car, either. A Mercedes. 

She goes around to the driver's side, opening the door to her car.

John just smiles, climbing into the passenger seat. He tapped on her visor and a series of new buttons. 

"I installed this last night. This will open and close the garage, this will remotely lock it or unlock it."

Helen taps the indicated buttons and watches in the rearview mirror as the door lifts.

John navigates her from the house to the coast. She's a far more careful driver than he is and it makes him smile to watch. Helen follows his directions and pulls in at the boutique shop John has chosen.

She looks at him as she turns the car off. "I would have been happy with Walmart."

John unbuckles, throwing her an amused glance before they head inside. Though summer has not yet hit, it has been an unusually warm spring and the air conditioning is a blessing.

Helen browses the suits while John looks around, carefully watching the door out of habit. He knows Helen had grabbed a towel from his bathroom but he quickly finds a stack of beach towels far softer than the ones in his bathroom.

He also locates a sunscreen, not wanting to hurt her soft golden skin. Its scent is a subtle coconut that won't block her natural sweet smell.

"Can I take that upfront for you, sir?" An Omega female asks him, standing far too close for comfort.

"Sure." He hands it off but the Omega doesn't go.

"Are you going to the beach?" She blinks up at him in a way he is sure is meant to be attractive but he feels nothing but discomfort. She is secreting pheromones but it makes him feel ill.

"John?" Helen calls and he quickly comes, heading to the back of the store.

"Yeah?"

A door opens to one of the changing rooms and Helen steps out. The bikini she has chosen is white, highlighting her warm skin. She turns in the mirror, trying to look at her backside and, dear God, her ass looks amazing and suddenly, his joke about the bikini isn't funny anymore.

“What do you think about this one?” 

"I'm going to have to kill everyone at the beach.”

She gives him a pointed look, setting a hand on her hip and _dear God_ that does not help.

"Can we just get that one for the house?" He tries.

"I'm not getting a house suit and a beach suit. I don't need more than one."

"I feel like that is going to be a separate argument."

"I agreed to let you get me a bathing suit. But just one."

"Fine. Today, we will only get one suit. You like that one?"

He could already tell she did. She looks so confident and for good reason.

His Omega is stunning.

Helen nods and John approaches taking the tag off the suit with a sharp tug.

"John!"

"I'm going to go pay." He tells her, pressing a kiss to her head. "Put your clothes on over it."

She nods and John goes back upfront.

The same Omega from earlier manages the register.

He places the tag on the counter. "This suit and the rest."

She nods, quickly scanning his items and giving the total.

He slides his credit card as she bags his items. 

"What happened to the one suit?" Helen asks, coming to stand next to him.

"It is only one suit. The rest can be considered accessories."

She rolls her eyes as John accepts the bag and walks her back to the car. It was a quick trip to the beach and, though it is warm, it is early enough in the season to not be overly crowded.

Helen picks a spot and John hands her the new towel. The one he has picked for her is a pale pink that reminds him of her lips. She lays it out and strips off her dress, now just in her bikini.

The urge to wrap her up in his arms and shield her from prying eyes is strong, but he resists.

John lays out his own towel and takes off his shirt.

“Fortune favors the brave.” Helen reads, reaching out to run her fingers along the words tattooed on his back. 

“Quick translation.”

“I took Latin in high school and again in college. If I was a beta or an Alpha, I would have wanted to be a professor.”

“Really?” He asks, looking back, “Is that how you know so much about Alexander the Great and Pompeii?”

Helen nods, “I’ve always loved learning. Ancient History and literature were always my favorite subjects. I used to dream of traveling the world, translating and analyzing lost works.” She hesitates before she shares, “I was devastated when I presented as an Omega.”

“I’m sorry.” Says John, “Your secondary sex is nothing to be ashamed of, but I am sorry that we live in a time and place that it limits your choices.”

Open acknowledgment of something most people wouldn’t bring up in polite company. 

“Things will get better,” John promises.

“You think?”

“Yes. Because fortune favors the brave.”

“And you really believe that?”

“Absolutely. Now, more than ever.”

“Why?”

“Because a little Omega I know was prepared to go head to head with one of the most renowned Alphas in the city. And I know that she is going to do great things."

Helen flushes and looks away. 

He needs to stop saying things like that or she really will fall for him.

Truth be told, she is unsure of why John wants to win her favor. She has no dowry, but it is clear that John doesn't care about that. Nor is she as young as most single Omegas. She is not old, but John could easily have a younger and more desirable Omega.

But, inexplicably, he wants her.

Is it to prove something? Is it a desire to tame her?

If anything, John seems to be encouraging her to run wild.

He had commented on the bikini but he hadn't pushed or argued on her choosing something else. He hadn't even tried.

Helen lays down on her stomach, opening her worn copy of Lysistrata.

She had always loved the play, from the first time she read it. It was in an Omega Studies course in college and it was the first time she had truly realized just how long Omega’s had been fighting to be treated as equals.

The titular character, Lysistrata, had inspired young Helen.

A group of women, tired of war, had refrained from sex until the men of Ancient Greece, Sparta, and Boeotia agreed to peace. The women had united as a front and successfully managed to end the war.

The Omegas were not reduced to their secondary sex. They were empowered by it, using their strengths to change the world. They fiercely declared to the world that they were Omegas and they were strong. 

_No threat shall creak our hinges wide._

_No torch shall light a fear in us._

_We will come out to Peace alone._

And that inspired her. She was strong. She was strong before she presented as an Omega. And she was strong after she presented.

Lysistrata has just finished her explanation to the magistrate when she puts down the text, taking a break.

It has been years since she has been to the beach, and she will have time to read later.

She glances over to John, who remains sitting, reading his copy of _The_ _Iliad_.

“I’m going down to the water.”

John looks over the edge of his book. “Would you like company?”

The corner of her mouth tips up in a small smile. John does not assume nor does he push his presence.

Yet, she craves it.

That, perhaps, is the most frightening aspect of everything. 

Helen enjoys his company. While John had not had a typical education, he had taught himself so much. It was admirable to say the least. He is smart and interesting and, though she has no illusions about who John is and what he does, he is undeniably sweet.

“Sure.” She says, not looking at him as she stands.

Twenty days left to make a decision and she was already becoming addicted to his presence.

John follows her down to the beach.

Helen closes her eyes as the waves break upon her feet. She stands, gazing out beyond the families playing in the water, to the horizon. 

“My mom used to take me to the beach in the summer.” She tells John softly, “I haven’t been since she died.”

John did the math. Nearly twenty years had passed since Helen had stood out like this, staring at the horizon.

He wraps an arm around her waist and Helen sets her head on his shoulder. 

John makes a silent promise that she will not wait so long again. 

He wonders, idly, how much it would cost to buy a beach house. One with privacy from the outside world, where they could sunbathe in privacy.

A porch where they could drink coffee in the early morning and watch the tide come and go. She can wear her cashmere sweaters on cold days and grade papers while smelling the salty air.

He makes a mental note to email his realtor when they get home.

John follows Helen as she slowly wades into the water. She shivers as a wave breaks over her stomach and John seizes the opportunity to wrap his arms around her small figure.

She turns clasping her hands in front of her and leaning against him as she winces and swears.

"Jesus fuck that's cold!" But she smiles as she says it and all remains well.

He runs his hands along her back and is amazed at just how smooth and soft her skin is.

Tentatively, she rests her forehead on his chest, getting used to the cold.

He wonders if she knows how much that small, trusting gesture means to him.

He kisses her head and smiles as she continues to wade out. She holds her nose and ducks under the water, swearing again as she rises and wrapping her wet body back against his.

John laughs as she throws her arms around him, clinging to his warmth.

After a moment, she sinks back into the water, the initial shock of cold waring off. Her hands run down the length of his arms and she floats, holding his hands.

Helen tugs him and John follows her in. The water is cool but he makes no mention. It is nothing compared to his daily swims in Belarus. Her presence is enough to keep him warm.

She smiles and sets a hand on each of his shoulders. She playfully shoves him and John allows himself to be pushed under the waves. When he breaks the surface, shaking his hair out of his face, he is met with laughter.

He lunges forward, tackling her down into the waves.

Is this what it means to be playful?

To have fun for the sake of fun?

Helen splashes him and he scoops her up into his arms, spinning and threatening to drop her.

She shrieks but it is not from fear. Her arms encircle his neck and she holds tight so even if he drops her, she will remain attached.

As if he ever would let her fall.

Instead, John sinks into the water, continuing to hold her, resting her legs on his lap.

"You're good at this." She tells him softly. Around them, children and families splashed in the water and the weekend hubbub echoing around them.

"At holding you?" He guesses aloud, certain that is not what she refers to.

"The Alpha thing." She shrugs, "I keep expecting you to start trying to tell me what to do. To start trying to push me around because you think you can and… you’re not. You’re just… showing me your strengths.”

" _And yet you are fool enough, it seems, to dare to war with me, When for your faithful ally you might win me easily._ "

She looks at John sharply, almost incredulously.

"Did you just quote Lysistrata to me?"

John smirks.

"I'm impressed." She admits.

John shifts uncomfortably, "I admit that I reread it last night. It's been years since I read it and that quote stood out to me, thinking about you."

"What about me?"

He hesitates the way he does when he is searching for the right words. "Make no mistake that I want you and I have no intention of parting from you when the allotted days are up. However," he says quickly, so as not to set her on edge or trap her needlessly, "I am happy to do so on your terms."

"My terms?"

"If this is to be anything, we must be equals." He states, "I’m not here to be your guardian. I’m here to be your partner.”

He rises slightly, picking her up so that a particularly high wave does not submerge her.

"It sounds like that may be difficult for an Alpha. I ask a lot." It is not self-criticism so much as an honest truth.

He is correct in his assumptions that she will accept nothing short of equality in a relationship. But what Alpha could be content with a partnership long term? She could not expect John to ignore his needs to provide and protect any more than she could deny her urges to nest, to nurture.

“You don’t.” John argues, “You ask for what should be standard and little more. Yes, we are different, but our differences are why we can work so well together.”

“Those differences have been used for thousands of years to keep people like me subservient.”

“I know. And it’s not fair. But,” John says softly, “many of those strengths of both our secondary sexes have been warped. I am an Alpha. I am strong and territorial, but that does not mean I subscribe to each and every aspect associated with Alphas. I enjoy reading and binding books far more than I enjoy physical and taxing activities. I am not entirely stupid, nor am I bound by the expectations of my sex.”

She looks away, knowing full well that her assumptions of Alphas were just as wrong as many people's opinions of Omegas.

“Most of us are living with unfair expectations looming over us, based on biology. And that is not to discount science, but to remember that we are more than the sum of our parts.”

A bit of guilt fills her. She has been so worried about the expectations imposed upon her as an Omega that she has not considered the expectations, and the assumptions, that were upon him.

“Don’t.” He says softly, “I don’t want you to feel bad. I have far more rights than you do. I can vote, I don’t require the signature of another just to go somewhere or buy something expensive. I just want you to know I understand why you are struggling with this.”

She tightens the arm around his neck and kisses him, softly. She can taste the salt on his lips from the waves but she does not mind. His lips are surprisingly soft, in direct juxtaposition to the scratchiness of his beard.

Still, she likes the way it feels against her skin.

She sighs into his mouth as John deepens the kiss, holding her tightly as the waves crash into them. 

Life, she thinks, can be so very good.

.

They stay at the beach all day. He buys her lunch on the boardwalk, treating her to fresh fish and fries and ice cream. The last makes her smile like a kid and she slips her hand into his as they walk down towards the piers. 

Helen asks him more questions about growing up in Belarus, about transitioning to the United States, and having to quickly learn a new language. 

It has been years since he thought of that time in his life and far longer since he spoke of it to another if he ever has. He finds himself unable to leave any question she asks him unanswered.

After their walk, they return to the beach, where she finishes her reading and John makes great headway into his book.

They stay until the moon rises and the sun begins to fall behind them. 

They find dinner nearby and John does indeed find a sweet wine that has her flushed by the second glass. 

He offers to drive home, which she gladly accepts, falling asleep in the passenger seat in the forty minutes it takes to get back to his house.

She wakes up to John picking her up and carrying her into the house. 

Helen mumbles an apology. The sun has always made her tired, but he promises that he doesn’t mind. He carries her up the stairs and tucks her in with a kiss on the forehead.

“What time do you need to get up?”

“Five.” She yawns and John sets her alarm accordingly before returning downstairs.

Louis came through with flying colors. A handful of retail bags are on the kitchen counter when he enters. He opens them and finds cashmere sweaters, in a variety of colors. Scarves are mixed in, along with a few wool cable-knit sweaters that John finds himself nodding at in approval.

Louis will be receiving a bonus.

There is also a new phone and several cases for her to pick from. It is the latest model John sets it up with anti-hacking software before retiring to bed.

The weekend had flown and now there would be five long days until he had her to himself again.

He would have to talk to Winston. Even if the old man was not blowing up his phone, John had made a public claim. In front of Viggo Tarasov and other prominent witnesses. It would need to be honored and that would need to be done in person.

That meant a trip to the Continental.

He changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt before peeking in on Helen one last time. She is wrapped in layers of blankets, sleeping peacefully.

One day, he promises them both, they won’t sleep apart.

But tonight, John goes to bed alone.


	4. The Claim

In the morning, he wakes up alone, just before five. He showers quickly and heads downstairs just as her alarm begins to beep.

When she arrives in the kitchen, hair wet and eyes glassy, he hands her a mug of coffee which she accepts gratefully and downs while still standing. She prepares another.

"Can you function without coffee?" He asks as she sleepily pours another cup.

"Not as well." She admits, "sure as hell can't teach without it."

John grins, plating a serving of eggs for each of them. He follows her to the breakfast nook where she sits down, eyes still hooded.

"Thanks."

"Of course." He sits across from her and his hand slips to his pocket and takes out the new phone.

"I’d appreciate," he says carefully, "if you would consider taking this. It’s been programmed so that it cannot be hacked and I am listed as your emergency contact and on speed dial. I will admit that it has a tracking chip but I swear not to use it unless you are in danger. I have enemies and…"

"Okay." She says with a yawn. 

He blinks. That was far too easy.

"Really?"

She shrugs.

"Huh. Guess I'm just going to start giving you things in the morning."

Again, she shrugs. "Before my coffee, I'll probably just grunt at you."

He smiles at that. "Fair enough. I feel like I just cracked the code."

"You did." She takes another sip of her coffee and rubs her face sleepily.

_ My sweet Omega _ .

The ball was in her court, completely, but he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to live the rest of his life the way he had over the weekend. Day trips and getaways, spoiling his partner with anything and everything. Making her meals and ensuring that she had coffee ready each and every morning.

There was only so much he could do, however, because it had to be Helen’s choice.

And the weekend had been perfect. He had truly never had a better weekend in his life, a better time.

But now, he had to go back to sharing her with the real world. 

Helen was going back to school, to her friends and coworkers. To her students and her life’s pursuits and, god, there was so much he could do for her. There was so much he could do to make her life easier but she had lived a life of utter independence. 

Would she give that freedom up for a chance?

And what would the people in her life say?

Would they push her one way or the other? Encourage her to keep her independence or push her towards protection?

Would the Alpha’s in her life make a move on her if they knew she was considering taking a mate?

Helen shifts in her seat, blinking up at him curiously. Her nostrils flare and she murmurers, “Sandalwood.”

John frowns but Helen inclines her head, curiously. “You’re worried.” She says.

John looks uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

Yes, he is worried and anxious. He always associated the Alpha protectiveness with possession and territorial traits but it became more and more clear that the reasons are complex. Anxiety fills him at the thought of separation.

No wonder so many Alphas project anxiety as aggression.

Helen stands and walks around to the other side of the table, standing in front of him. She pushes his shoulder and John scoots his chair back a foot. Helen sits sideways on his lap and lifts her chin, exposing her neck in silent offering.

He lunges forwards, rubbing their scent glands together, reveling in the maple smell that mixes with his. He feels the musky, earthy scent of himself excrete and he covers her in it. Her neck, her shoulders, rubbing his neck along her arms. Her wrists.

And she lets him, which awes John all the more.

His arms wrap around her and he rises, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He breathes her in.

She will come home to him, he tells himself. His Alpha almost dares her to do anything else, only to prove that he will always find her. It almost frightens him how attached he is to his tiny Omega.

And, as if she can hear into his mind, she whispers, "I'll be back in just hours."

"I know." He says gruffly, "I know."

She puts a hand on his bearded cheek and smiles. She gives him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Have a good day, John.

.

Traffic is not as bad as she had anticipated and she makes it to the school far earlier than she intended. The hallways are filled with young kids, taking advantage of the free breakfast the school offers.

A few of her older students who have presented look at her in surprise as she walks to her classroom.

She avoids their gaze, focusing only on her destination. There's been an ongoing joke amongst every senior class, with its presenting Alphas. A sort of bet that they all know they can't win about courting Miss Kingston.

It was worse in the early years of teaching, when she was closer in age. She used to receive presents each and every year from the new Alphas promising her the world. She quickly shut it down but every year, one or two kids still tried to initiate a courtship.

She would lecture them in front of their entire class and was merciless in assigning extra work regarding Omeganist literature.

What was hard was the other teachers. The mated Omega peers and betas who were waiting for Helen to mate, if only to prove a point. As if it was any of their business.

She sits at her desk, almost regretting allowing John to mark her with his scent. Bit no, even amidst the stares and potential comments l, she could not regret the calming scent nor the peace it brought to his eyes as he rubbed his glands over her.

"Knock knock."

She smiles, looking up at her friend.

"Hey, Nicky."

"Hello, my love."

Another brilliant Omega thrown into teaching because Omegas can't break into academia or research.

"The kids are talking." Nicky says, "apparently Miss Kingston got a mate."

"Oh really?"

"I thought it was a joke but, Christ, I can smell the Alpha from here. Did he fucking scent mark your whole body?" Nicky dramatically sniffs the air, making a face.

"Laugh it up."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anyone. I thought you said your dad had a thing against you dating, or was that just a ruse to get Cavanaugh off your back?"

Helen smirks, "my father is strict but…" she has known this conversation would eventually come up but she hates lying to her friends. "He's getting older I don't want to have a state assigned guardian. I convinced him it was better to find someone who wouldn't put up a fight about me working."

"And you succeeded over the weekend?" Nicky leans against her desk, looking skeptical. 

"We haven't formally… mated but I like him. Quite a bit, actually. Far more than I ever intended to."

"I'm speechless."

"I know,” Helen has figured out how to fully explain the situation to anyone. 

There were moments, like talking about literature over dinner or having John prepare her coffee in the morning, that felt timeless. Like they had been doing so all their lives rather than just a few days. There was a naturalness to it that she had not expected. And maybe it was because of how John was, not just providing, but cutting her flowers and preparing her meals.

“It's been a little wild but he's a good guy."

"I thought you said there were no good Alphas, my beautiful husband excluded."

Helen tries to think of the words to describe John and she cannot find the ones to bring him justice. 

"My aversion for Alphas remains intact but John is different. I think he’s secure enough in his secondary gender that he doesn’t pull any of the stupid shit that Cavanaugh and other Alphas have. Yesterday, we went to the beach and the flat out asked me if I wanted to drive. I’ve never seen an Alpha willingly take the passenger seat. You know the old joke about the Alphas and the car?”

Nicky nods, “Four Alphas, four betas, and four Omegas are going on a trip. How many cars do they take?”

“Five. A car a piece for the Alpha’s, one car for the four betas, and the Omega’s will take the bus.” Helen finishes rolling her eyes. “It’s stupid as fuck but I get it. My dad wanted me to know how to drive but would have never considered actually letting me drive.”

“But he offered?”

Helen glances around, making sure the students were still ll in the hall, before quietly admitting. “He bought me a car. And put it in my name. He told me even if I decide not to stay with him, the car is mine.”

Nicky blinks, “Holy shit. My car is under Hasan’s name and he’s as progressive as it comes.”

“It was extra paperwork. Omega’s still can’t carry liability but the car is mine. And Nick…” Again, she looks around, “It’s a fucking Mercedes.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I know.”

“Hel!”

“I know. He’s amazing but, it’s like, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? I told him we could have a three-week trial and then I would make a decision to mate or not.”

“And he’s okay with that?”

“The trial was his suggestion. I’m just scared because he is amazing. I couldn’t have created a better Alpha if I tried but what if he is just playing it up? How many stories of courtship have you heard where the Alpha is everything you could have dreamed until they mate and then they become controlling? If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

Nicky shrugs, “I worried about the same when I met Hasan.”

“Yeah, but Hasan adores you.”

There’s a knock at the door, “Excuse me?”

Peter.

Helen shoots to her feet, “Peter!”

“Hey, Miss Kingston. Mister Kareen.” Peter has his backpack draped loosely over a shoulder and relief and wonder shoot through Helen.

John had promised he would be in school but seeing him there, after watching him have to leave, made her heart feel heavy in the best way.

“Peter!” Nicky says in surprise, “I thought you had left.”

“I had,” Peter confirms, coming into the classroom. “But there was a turn of events. I dropped out to help pay the bills. My mom was barely getting by but someone, anonymously, paid our rent for the next five years. Can you believe that?"

Helen felt her mouth drop open in shock but Peter continued.

“And the guy I was working for, he called me personally and said that they didn’t need me anymore but they appreciated my services so much that they had set up a trust for me. No strings attached, to pay for my college.”

Peter is smiling nervously, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it and Helen covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes well up.

“Oh, Peter.” She says, crossing the room and pulling the young boy into her arms. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, Miss Kingston. I wanted to come back so badly but it didn’t seem possible. I’ve been thanking my stars all weekend.”

“That’s incredible.” Nicky told him in surprise, his eyes narrowing, as if he did not quite believe it, “I can’t imagine anyone who deserves it more.”

_ How?  _ She wonders, and then  _ why? _

John had agreed to get Peter out of Tarasov’s crew but… that was it. That was all he had promised. It had been all that she had asked.

This is far above and beyond everything she had considered.

“I was wondering if it was possible to get the work I missed last week? I want to make sure I’m caught up.” Peter asks, and glances at Nicky, “For your class, too, Mister Kareen.”

“Of course.”

“Absolutely.” Nicky echoed, “We’re covering the crusades. If you’d like to see me during lunch, I can have everything prepared for you.”

“I’ll waive the essay you missed if you ensure that you complete an extra few pages on the final paper for Lysistrata."

"Okay. Thank you. I'll check in with you during lunch, Mister Kareen."

She nods, swallowing hard, and watching as Peter goes back into the hall with his peers.

"Your favorite student is back!" Nicky tells her, eyes still narrowed as he blinks at the door.

"John." She says softly, turning to her desk and quickly crossing the room. 

"Who?"

"John. My Alph-- the Alpha who's courting me. I didn't…"

"Slow down, Helen. What happened?" Nicky asks, clearly confused.

Helen shakes her head, unlocking her phone, and searching for the call icon.

"How the fuck do you use this thing?" She asks, swiping through the screens frantically.

"what are you trying to do?" Nicky looks worried.

"I need to call John!" Her voice breaks and fuck, she wants her Alpha, and it's not fair. It's been two days and already she is craving his presence.

"Call button is at the bottom. When did you get a smartphone?"

She shakes her head, finding John's contact information.

"Can you just close the door, Nicky?"

He does and she hits the button to call.

It rings once. "Hel?"

"How?" And fuck, her voice cracks again, tears threatening to spill..

"How what? Are you alright?"

"You paid his mom's rent? And set up a college trust?"

Nicky's mouth drops open in disbelief. He mouths  _ what the fuck? _

"Oh. Yes, what about it?"

What about it? She is unsure of what to say. It is so far above and beyond what she had asked. More than she could have imagined.

"Why?" She whispers.

"Gangs are competitive." He replies simply, "It was clear that Peter didn't want to leave school but he needed to support his family. I looked into it, figured that this would take care of that."

He explains it so logically but the answer doesn't give her what she needs.

"But… why? That wasn't part of the deal."

There's a pause and then John's voice softens,  "Helen, you've spent years being the only shield these kids have. And, I want you to know, it doesn't have to be you against the world anymore. I'm in your corner."

And fuck her, she is ruined. Totally and completely destroyed by John Wick.

She has been trying not to be lost in his gestures and kindness but now she is overwhelmed. Helen opens her mouth to speak, a tear falling down her cheek.

"John…" is all she can manage to say. She swallows the lump in her throat. "Thank you."

"You are so very welcome." He says softly. "I'm in Manhattan right now. Can I see you for lunch?"

"Yes." And for the first time, there is no hesitation, "I break at 11:20 to noon."

"I'll pick something up."

"Thank you." She says again and even though she cannot see him, she can almost feel him smile.

"I'll see you soon."

Helen hangs up, her cheeks turning rosy as Nicky looks at her, an eyebrow raised. "Girl, you better start explaining."

She has no idea what to say or how to begin to explain the intricacies of their relationship.

"I told John about Peter. I told him I wanted him back in school. He told me that he'd take care of it but.. I wasn’t even sure he could actually get him back, let alone…”

Nicky approaches, leaning against her desk, eyes narrowing. “Your Alpha did what?”

She runs a hand through her hair, “He got Peter back, Nicky.” She whispers, “And he paid for his family so Peter doesn’t have to go back to- to the streets.”

“Helen,” Nicky says carefully, “I’m not trying to be insensitive. I am genuinely thrilled that Peter is back in school, but Peter was working with gangsters. Bad ones.”

“I know. He was working for the Russians and Viggo Tarasov.”

Nicky blinks, “Hel…” He pauses, “How do you know about Viggo Tarasov?”

She rolls her eyes, “I grew up in Brooklyn, Nicky. Everyone knows about Tarasov. It didn’t take much to figure out who it was Peter was working for. But John has things over Tarasov.”

“Your Alpha, Helen, what is his name?”

“John.”

“His last name.”

“Wick. John Wick.”

Nicky stares at her for a moment before a long string of Italian breaks from his lips, “Santo cazzo, Madre di Cristo. Bastardo!” He kneels to the floor next to her, “Helen, oh sweet Helen. Tell me what happened. From the beginning, leave nothing out.”

“You’re scaring me, Nicky.”

“You should be scared, Cara mia. But not of me. John Wick is a dangerous man.”

She blinks, “You know him?”

Nicky nods, "As well as anyone. John is friendly with my father. And he and Hasan have worked together in the past.”

Her mouth drops open, “Oh my god. Hasan is an assassin.”

Nicky looks around frantically, “Keep your voice down! You know what Wick is?”

Helen nods, still in shock. She has known Nicky for nearly ten years. She is the godmother to his children and, in all that time, she never realized what Hasani did. Yes, he traveled a lot and occasionally came home looking a little worse for wear, with bruises in odd places, but she did not think too much of it. He was an Alpha and it was not her business.

“Oh my god,” She says softly, “This whole time, Hasan was an assassin. Do the kids know?”

Nicky shakes his head, “Dio, no. And they won’t until they are much older, if ever. Helen,” he glances back at the door. The halls are filling up but the warning bell has yet to ring and he looks back. “What happened with Wick? How did you meet him?”

“I…” She hesitates, “I went to Tarasov’s compound on Saturday morning, to try to appeal to him.”

“I’m not going to touch that and just ask you to continue,” Nicky says incredulously.

Helen grimaces, “I know, but Peter was stuck and alone and,” She lowers her voice, “You know that kid won't present as an Alpha. To be stuck in that world, even if as a beta, could destroy him. As an Omega, he’d either be abused or whore’d out and I couldn’t let that happen!”

“I know. Just tell me how Wick got involved.”

“I went to Tarasov’s office. I had to push my way through his compound but they were all too surprised that I wasn’t listening to their orders, they didn’t even try to get physical with me. When I got to Tarasov, he was in a meeting. John was there. I tried to appeal to Tarasov, but he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Nicky just nods.

“And then, he told his guards to take me outside and teach me a lesson and… I swear, Nicky, I didn’t even see John move but he was in front of me in a second. He went old school Alpha, and I mean old school. He told Tarasov that he was  _ claiming me,  _ which was ridicu--”

Nicky grabs her shoulders, shocking her from her speech. “What did he say, Helen? Did he use those words? Claim?”

“Uh, yeah. He just looked at Tarasov and said that I was ‘claimed.’” She looks at her friend in confusion, “I don’t understand, Nicky.”

“What did Tarasov say?”

“I don’t remember, verbatim. I think he said something about being surprised that John would do such a thing, but he let us go without an argument.”

“Of course he did.” Nicky says with a nod, “Even Tarasov won’t touch a Claim. It’s too sacred.”

“What are you talking about?” She asks, feeling far out of her depth.

“Wick should have explained all this to you.” He looks uncomfortable, “I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you all this.”

“Nicky, I’m confused and I get that things are happening that I don’t understand, but I want to know. I need to know.”

Nicky looks at his friend with sympathy, “Welcome to the Underworld.”

.

John pulls up to the front of the Continental. The easy smile on his face slips. The weekend is over and he cannot show weakness, not in here.

He steps out of the car and allows the valet to take it down below as he walks up the steps.

He ignores the stares but makes note of who is paying attention to him.

John stands in line at the front desk, waiting for Charon to become free.

"The Manager?" John asks when the assassin before him is checked in and wandering towards the elevator.

"In his suite. Shall I call him down?"

"Please."

He goes to Winston's office to await the older man. 

They have never had a conventional relationship. Typically, the manager doesn't interact with the guests unless there is an issue. He keeps track of local markers and contracts, but otherwise only sees to the needs of the hotel itself.

But Winston, from the very beginning, took an interest in John. If he is being honest, which he tries to be, Winston is the closest thing John has to a father figure.

He hears the footsteps and the closing of the door and waits for him to speak.

Winston pours a glass of brandy at the small bar before sitting across from him.

"Jonathan."

"Winston."

Neither says anything and Winston downs his glass. It is barely eight in the morning.

"Would you like to explain to me what is going on?"

"I know you've heard."

"And despite that, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

John sits back in the chair, "I was meeting with Tarasov and an Omega interrupted the meeting. She blew past all his guards and made it to his office before they even caught up with her. She wanted one of his teenage runners back in school. Tarasov ignored her and told his men he wanted them to teach her a lesson and I intervened."

"Intervened is an interesting choice of words, Jonathan. It implies a certain sense of detachment.”

John smirks at that. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“No games. If what I’ve heard is true--”

“What have you heard?”

Winston glares at him, “I heard that you, while in the middle of Tarasov’s compound, put a Claim on an Omega that you had never met before. You did so formally, in front of witnesses.”

“I did.”

“A Claim, Jonathan!” Winston leans forward, “You only have one, you know. One person to put under your protection and you used yours on a stranger!”

“Yes.”

Winston breathes heavily and John realizes it’s the first time he has ever seen the Manager truly at a loss for words. The older man pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Marcus says she was at your home yesterday.”

“She was.”

“Then the Claim is legitimate? She is your Omega?”

“She’s mine.”

His old friend stares at him, much in the same way that Marcus had the day before. 

“Winston,” John says with a sigh, “She is my Omega. My Claim stands and can be registered as such.”

Winston stands and crosses the room to a bookcase. It's where he keeps the records, John knows. He has sat in this room before, having Markers made, watching others sign their allegiance to him. But nothing has ever made his heart stutter in his chest as seeing Winston take down the Book of Claims.

He never imagined that he would one day be signing his name inside it. Writing her name next to his.

Winston sets the book in front of John, opening it to a blank page.

“You are certain, Jonathan?”

“I’ve already made my Claim. As you said, I did so in front of witnesses. I stand by it.”

Winston hands him a pen and John writes his full name and then hers. He signs and marks it with a bloody thumbprint.

The Book of Claims is not binding in the real world. He had simply written two names in a notebook. It holds no sway in court and is basically meaningless.

In his world, they are now as good as married. If Helen left him, the Claim would stand. If they one day married and then divorced, the Claim would stand.

If against every odd, Helen was not his True Mate, he could never protect another.

There was only one Claim and he has used his. Without regret.

“I hope you have made the right choice,” Winston tells him, closing the book and returning it to its shelf. “But I bid you remember, that there are ways to get around the Claim.”

Despite the protections offered by the High Table for Claimed mates and loved ones, it wasn’t unheard of for someone to go missing. Or be killed in a freak accident. Or a freelancer, not bound by the laws of the High Table, to attack someone’s mate for a quite literally under-the-table payment.

“I will keep her safe.” A promise me makes to Winston, but also to himself.

No one will hurt her.

“I hope you can,” Winston replies, resuming his seat across from John. “She must be something special. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you with an Omega. Or any sort of date, for that matter.”

John relaxes back. The difficult part of the conversation is done. “Marcus suggested I was asexual. Perhaps he is not too far off base. I have never met anyone, regardless of primary or secondary sex, that held my attention. Not until Helen.”

“Love at first sight,” Winston says, although John gets the feeling he is being facetious.

“On my part, yes. I’m working to earn hers.”

He feels his heart pound at the thought of their phone call.

Her voice had been heavy with emotion and it had taken everything not to turn around and drive to Brooklyn to wrap her into his arms. But they both had things to do, jobs to complete.

She had minds to shape.

He had bodies to kill.

They are so very different and yet, he has no doubts that they share a soul.

At first, when he had taken her from Tarasov’s compound, John had worried that he would corrupt her. Now, he worries less for her innocence and more for her safety. The Claim gives him a degree of ease but Marcus and Winston’s warnings remind him that he is not infallible. What they do not know, however, gives him hope. 

Helen is fierce.

“She must be something special,” Winston notes, rising and walking back to the bar. He pours another glass for himself and one for John. “I cannot imagine you falling for anyone less.”

John nods. His mate is a wonder.

Winston hands John a glass. Brandy is not his drink of choice but he accepts, raising his glass as Winston says,

“A toast, then. To your Omega. May she live a long life at your side.”

.

Helen counts down the hours until lunch, the hours dragging between lecturing and warning her students to stop their whispers. If only the teachers were so courteous. She has already had visits from nearly everyone in the English department, stopping by to see if the rumors are true. If Helen Kingston has taken a mate.

John’s smell is all over her, but she bears no mark.

The whispers continue.

She ignores them.

They had only minutes before the warning bell rang and then only ten until she had no choice but to open the door to the classroom. 

In that time, Nicky had tried his best to explain the complex world of assassins. 

Wick, he told her, was known by many as the Baba Yaga. The Bogeyman.

While Hasani tended to stick to corporate espionage and assassinations, John was the man sent to kill the most dangerous targets. The ones with personal guards and the ones no one was able to get to. He was the best.

"In Italy, they call him Lo Spectro. He is a ghost, of sorts."

Apparently, Hasan, John, and dozens of other assassins worked under an organization known as the High Table. The High Table was a sort of counsel that governed an underground sort of world, filled with spies and assassins.

"Almost all the assassins are Alphas. Many choose to not mate, however, a great deal of them do. Oftentimes, assassins are legacies. Hasani and I both come from such families."

"You do?" She had asked in surprise.

"Si," he tells her, "my father is a member of the High Table, as is Hasan’s. Both my siblings, Gianna and Santino, are assassins."

But what was more of a surprise and far more confusing was the Claim.

"There needed to be a way to protect mates so that lines could be continued and to keep a degree of peace. It all becomes very messy when mates are involved. If someone kills your mate, you kill theirs, and before you know it, the world descends into chaos.  So the Claim was started. Every assassin who serves under the High Table is given one Claim, to use at their discretion, to take a mate. It needs to be declared publicly, in front of witnesses."

Helen flushed, "but we haven't mated yet."

Nicky smiled softly at her, "It does not require consummation, although it is far more powerful and binding than a marriage."

"What do you mean?"

"You can divorce from a marriage. You can separate. But a claim is eternal. Once John uttered those words in front of witnesses, it was a done deal. He can never again claim or protect another Omega."

The weight of what he had done for her was heavy on her shoulders.

She shivers, wishing she had more time with Nicky. She has so many questions and she eagerly awaits the lunch bell.

It rings and she shuffles her students out, telling the few stragglers that she can answer their questions tomorrow. She locks the door and turns almost running directly into the principal.

“Oh!” She says, “Principal Cavanaugh.”

She should have known, as soon as she smelled the earthy stench.

“Miss Kingston. I need a word with you.”

“I’m going on my break.” She is pleased that her tone remains sweet, even as she rushes to leave.

“I have heard some troubling things, Miss Kingston.” He tells her, blocking her path, “Rumors are circulating the school and, it seems,” Cavanaugh turns up her nose, “That they may be true.”

A flash of anger flows through her, but then, Cavanaugh has always walked the line of boundaries when it came to her.

He was an Alpha, theoretically. And Helen was one who staunchly advocated for people to be more than their secondary sex, but Dan Cavanaugh was the weakest, most passive Alpha she has ever met. He’s small enough to be mistaken for a beta and, were he not totally insufferable, she might have thought him to be one. As it was, Cavanaugh was brash and confident and far too interested in her life for her to feel comfortable around him.

“My personal life is my business, Principal Cavanaugh.”

“Everything that is going on in this school is my business.”

“If it’s school business, we can discuss it on school time.” She says and walks around him. “If you need to discuss something with me, my break is over at noon.”

And she hurries down the hall, weaving in between students to quickly be lost to the principal.

She goes outside and down the steps. John’s car is parked in the far back, he leans against the hood.

She quickens her pace heading to the back of the lot. She notes, as she gets closer, that she was correct in remembering his windows were tinted.

Wordlessly, she goes to the passenger side.

John follows her, climbing in on his side. There are salads and wrapped sandwiches on the dashboard but she ignores.

The moment John closes his door behind him, she reaches over and wraps a hand around his tie. She uses it to yank him forward and crashes their mouths together. 

If he is surprised, he doesn't show it, turning to face her and pulling her into his arms.

Helen rises to a kneel, her legs beneath her in the seat before she crosses over, straddling him in the driver's seat.

John reaches down and suddenly, his chair goes back giving them more room.

Helen continues to kiss him, her sweet maple tongue caressing his as she rolls her hips into his.

John groans, feeling himself harden in his slacks. She was so soft to the touch, so sweet to the taste.

Six hours without her had been hell.

How did mates go so long without each other?

John nips at her lips and Helen moans softly, leaning her forehead into his.

John lets his breathing even out before whispering, "Hello to you too."

Helen opens her mouth to reply but is momentarily left speechless.

Everything he has done for Peter, coupled with the kindness and understanding he has shown her… and then, adding all that Nicky has explained… she is back to feeling overwhelmed. 

She has told him 'thank you' but it is not nearly enough for everything he has done for her.

So Helen kisses him again, gently.

He is surprisingly sweet and his touch is soft, almost as if he is afraid to hurt her. She has told him before and she is certain she will need to tell him again,  _ I will not break _ .

Nicky had tried, in the few minutes they had, to emphasize the Claim. Even if it had seemed like a passing order, it was far more. 

_ A Claim is everything in our world _ .  _ That he used his on you, a stranger, is unheard of. And I have never known John Wick to be impulsive _ .

The risk he had taken for her made it difficult to swallow. 

She feels herself understanding that this is no passing fancy. That for John Wick, this is everything.

What is more, she feels herself truly considering, not just idly, what it would mean to stay with him. To become his woman, his Omega. John wouldn’t try to change her, she was sure. Yes, he would do his damndest to protect her but he would never use his status as an Alpha over her.

And what was more, he seems to adore the traits others had tried to limit in her past. He encourages her in her academic pursuits and seems genuinely angry that she cannot progress farther in her goals because of her secondary sex. 

Their talks fill her with hope. Yes, he provides her with everything she could ever want, but what makes her heart feel full are the daisies on her bedside table. The way he prepares her coffee in the morning. The way he reread Lysistrata so he could discuss it with her over dinner.

What man or Alpha did such things?

Her father adored her mother, but he never would have thought to do such things for her. It was the Omega’s duty to please their Alpha, he had said.

Her tongue teases his and John nips at her lips as she withdraws.

“You taste like brandy.” She tells him.

He smiles, running his hand along her hair, “I spent the morning filing paperwork at the office and had a drink with a friend.”

Helen finds herself biting her lip. A part of her urges her to wait, to let John bring it up when he feels the time is right. The other more independent part of her protests and the words spill from her lips before she can even truly consider them.

“You filed the Claim, then?”

There is a beat of silence and John leans back, assessing. His eyes are narrowed but he does not look angry. If anything, he seems just shy of amused.

“I’m intrigued.” He says, resting his hands on her hips, “Tell me, sweet girl, how did you find out about  _ that _ ?” 

She glances down, almost guiltily. “It turns out we share some acquaintances.”

“Oh?”

“My friend, Nicky. He heard your name and he explained some things to me.”

“Nicky? What’s his surname?”

“Kareen. He’s married and mated to Hasan Kareen.”

“Nicolo D’Antonio Kareen?” John clarifies. A hand comes up and he rubs the bridge of his nose, “Husband and mate to Hasani Kareen. You’re friends with him?”

Helen nods, “I’m the godmother to their children.”

“Of course you are.” John says with a small nod, “Okay.”

“Is that a problem?” She asks. Nicky had made it seem like they were not enemies.

“No.” John assures her, “I’m friendly with the D’Antonio family. Most of them, anyway. Nicolo’s brother, Santino, is a dick. His sister is decent enough. And Hasani and I usually run in different circles, but I’ve never had a problem with him. He is quite competent. What else did Nicolo tell you about?”

She shrugs, “He just explained some things about the Underworld and the High Table. How it works, a bit about the legacy families.”

“And the Claim,” John says.

Helen nods, “A cliffnotes version, I’m sure, but yes.” She looks down, considering her next words carefully before meeting his eyes, “You used yours on me.”

“I did.”

“Even though I was a stranger?”

“Yes.”

“Nicky assures me that you aren’t usually impulsive.”

John smirks at that, “Does he, now?”

“Is he wrong?”

“No. I’m not impulsive.”

“Yet you used a one-time claim on me.”

“Yes.”

Helen finds herself rolling her eyes, “You’re not helpful, John.”

“No, I’m not.”

She smacks his shoulder lightly but John just smiles.

“For what it’s worth… thank you. For protect me. For saving Peter.”

John leans forward and kisses her forehead. “At some point, there are some papers I will need you to sign.”

Helen nods, “Okay.”

And he is grateful that went easier than he had anticipated.

Helen feels herself falling into him again. John drags his mouth across her jaw, pressing kisses to her neck. He can be so unbelievably gentle but, right now, she doesn’t want gentle.

She shoves his shoulders, pushing him back against his seat and brings her body forward, leaning flush against him. He groans as she rubs her body against his.

Again, she is grateful for the tinted windows, as Helen hikes her dress up over her legs.

His hands come around, nails biting into her hips in the best way possible.

She sucks on his neck, one hand lost in his hair, the other maneuvering the buttons of his vest. John leans forward, helping her to push off his suit jacket and vest. John undoes the buttons on his shirt as quickly as he can, ripping on off a few in the rush until his shirt is undone.

She adores him, she acknowledges, as John catches her lips with his. His tongue slides between her lips and Helen finds herself moaning at the contact.

An Alpha had never been in her plans. She could have lived her entire life without one, but damn it, she wants him. And Helen always tries to take the things she wants. 

_ No excuses _ .

She will not be his Omega, she decides. Not in such simple terms.

No. He will be  _ her _ Alpha. 

And gladly, she will take his hand and walk by his side into the Underworld.

She runs her hands down his bare chest. Later, she tells herself, she will admire his tattoos. Trace them with her fingers and then her tongue. She will ask him about each one. Why he has it. What it means. Where he was when he got it. 

But later.

Now, she finds his belt with her hands and undoes the latch, blindly.

John’s hands tighten their grip on her hips, almost as if he is afraid to move them. Afraid to push her too far.

Fine. She has no problem with taking the lead.

She undoes his zipper and her hand finds him. He is hard and throbbing as she takes him from his pants. The head is leaking and she wishes they had more room. She wants to taste him.  _ Her  _ Alpha.

She adds it to the list of things for later, stroking him firmly as a string of Russian escapes his lips.

“ _ Helen…”  _ He breathes her name like a prayer, and she answers him with a kiss.

She reaches down, moving her panties to the side and rubbing the tip of his cock against her wet center, coating him in her slick.

John swears again and her lips twitch.

That is her doing.

She takes great pride in making this man, who Nicky had described as focused and disciplined, lose control.

Helen sinks onto his length, little by little, keening at the way he fills her so completely.

She is suddenly grateful to the toys which had gotten her through her heats for years. Without them, she is not entirely sure she could have taken him so well.

Her eyes flutter shut as rocks into him.

John’s hands remain in place. 

So controlled and careful.

That simply will not do.

Helen licks a stripe up his neck, over her mating glands, teasingly. She kisses his neck, his jaw, down to his ear. She takes the lobe between her teeth, clenching him inside her.

“Fuck me.” She whispers and she can feel her sweet Alpha  _ snap _ .

His hands move, grabbing her ass and squeezing tightly, as he nudges her head up with his, exposing her neck.

He sucks, harshly, at her sensitive flesh as he lifts her with ease. She bounces on his lap, her hands holding his shoulders for support.

And it feels so good, to have him moving with her, fucking her in the front seat of his car. He is perfect like this, she can barely imagine how it will feel to take his knot.

Helen whimpers at the thought as John continues rising to meet her.

She is close, she knows. She can feel the tightness, building inside of her and it feels so, unbelievably, good.

Like he was made, just for her.

She feels drenched in his smell, amber, and pepper and musky spices coating her skin. It’s only fair, she decides. John Wick will be walking around the city smelling like sweet Omega.

_ Good _ , she thinks.  _ He is mine _ .

She swears as he hits her just right and she feels herself clenching tighter around him. Helen buries her face in the crook of his shoulder, crying out as she cums.

He is not far behind and she feels him spill inside of her with a groan.

And then he is kissing her, his hand tangling in her hair. She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing back hungrily. His teeth sink into her lip and she nearly cums again at the harsh sensation.

She breathes heavily against him as John whispers to her, softly, in Russian. She makes a mental note to buy a translation guide.

“My car next time.” She says, panting against his shoulder. “I have a backseat.”

“Next time,” He nips at her ear, “I take you in bed.”

Helen smiles at that, looking up at John. He stares back down at her in adoration. He strokes her hair, softly, before carefully tucking himself back into his pants. He lifts her carefully and helps maneuver Helen so that she is sitting sideways on his lap, legs draped over onto the passenger seat.

Again, she tucks her head down on his shoulder.

He glances at the clock. “You should eat.” he tells her, “before your break is up.”

“I’d rather have you again.”

He growls lowly and Helen laughs, reaching for the sandwiches. “Fine, fine!” She unwraps it and makes a show of letting him see her take a bite out of it.

“Thank you.” She says, offering him a bite. 

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

She nestles against him. “Tell me about the rest of your morning.”

“Wasn’t too exciting, after I finished filing the Claim and the subsequent paperwork, I spent the morning looking at… job listings.”

Helen snorts, swallowing her bite, “Is that assassin-speak for a hit list?”

“Potential hit list.” John amends. “It gives me an opportunity to learn about the hit. Where they come from, their proximity. Any alliances I need to be aware of?”

She nods, “Nicky said that his family is part of the Camorra? The Italian Mob?”

“Yes.” Says John, “There are twelve factions that serve under the High Table. Nicolo’s father is the head of the Italian Mob.”

“And Tarasov is the head of the Mafia?”

“No,” John gives a small smile, “No, Tarasov is the nephew of Mikhail, the current head of the Mafia. Tarasov and his brother, Abram, just run the New York sector.”

“It really is a family business.”

“It is,” John agrees, “It’s hard to break in if you don’t come from one of the old families or if you don’t have a connection.”

“How did you get involved?”

He finds himself playing with her hair, thinking back all those years ago.. “It was after I was discharged from the Marines. I went back to Mexico, to the old village I stayed at when I was a kid and I saw a man being attacked. I intervened and he turned out to be an assassin, under the High Table. He invited me into the fold.”

She hums, “You saved the life of an assassin.”

“The irony has never been lost on me. Before I knew it, I was deeply involved within the Underworld, working my way up the ladder.”

“Nicky says that you’re the best.”

“That’s kind of him.”

She almost rolls her eyes. John Wick truly is an expert at prevaricating. She cannot blame him, not when Helen knows so much about his past but it breaks her heart, just a little, thinking about everything he had to do to survive. 

She offers him a small mercy and changes the subject, “So what criteria do you use, to pick a target?”

“Location is most important. Though I don’t mind traveling, on occasion, I prefer to be closer to home. I usually have a backlog of books that I’m working on and I prefer to spend my time doing that.”

She smiles, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“After confirming local kills, I check the payoff. I seldom take targets under five million.” Helen almost chokes at that, coughing as she swallows wrong.

“Oh fuck,” she swore, rubbing her chest, “Fuck, you’re kidding. You’re kidding, right?”

“I think I’m afraid to answer that,” John says, rubbing her back with a look of concern. 

“You know what? Don’t tell me. I think I’d rather not know.”

“Okay.” She can hear the amusement in his voice as he rubs her shoulder. 

The time ticks down and they move on to simpler things. How she met Nicky at the school and immediately found a kindred spirit. Another Omega, a brilliant one at that, trapped by the bounds of a secondary gender. And, as a male Omega, he faced even more resistance then she did. 

How she became his ally when the teachers started making snide comments to him.

How they pushed, together, for school reform and always had each other’s back.

A new respect for the lesser-known D’Antonio grew as she talked about Nicky as a father. He had two kids, who John vaguely had heard about. Hasani was a quiet man and the D’Antonio’s tended not to mention their wayward Omega son.

But their time was up quickly and Helen soon found herself smoothing down her dress. John came around to the passenger side of the car, smoothing her hair.

“How do I look?”

“Fantastic.”

“Am I about to go back into my classroom looking freshly fucked?”

He smirks at that, “Unfortunately not. Would you like to get in the backseat and try again?”

Helen smacks his shoulder again and he catches her wrist on the rebound, pulling her forward for a final kiss.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight.” She agrees, smiling when he does not release her hand until the last possible second.

She hears the first bell ring and she hurries up the stairs into the school.

Last week, just Friday, she had spent an entire lunch break grading papers and creating extra credit assignments for the students struggling in English. With just a few weeks before the summer break, stragglers were desperate to make up their grades. 

Helen smiles to herself. After actually eating lunch and having a lunchtime quickie, life was good. Extremely so.

Nothing could bring her down.

She unlocks the door to her classroom, letting a few students inside, “Miss Kingston!”

Cavanaugh.

_ Except that.  _

Helen glances back over her shoulder, “Principal Cavanaugh.”

“I need a word.”

“My students are coming into my class, Principal.”

“I’ll send in someone to sit with them. Just a minute of your time.”

“Uh,” She looks into her classroom, “Lydia,” She calls to one of her brightest students, “Tell everyone to begin reading the last act.”

“Yes, Miss Kingston.”

She follows Cavanaugh down the hall and back to the office. The school secretary, a younger and married Omega smirks at her as she is brought back to the principal’s office.

Helen resists the urge to glare at the secretary. She was part of the reason that both Helen and Nicky avoided the teacher’s lounge. She liked to loudly talk about how fulfilled she was now that she was ‘mated’ to some corporate lawyer. How she couldn’t wait to get pregnant and stop working because no self-respecting Omega would work instead of staying home with the children.

Her middle finger itches but she rolls her fingers into her palm. 

Cavanaugh ushers her into his office and closes the door behind her.

God, she feels like she’s back in school herself, being called down to be lectured. 

“Have a seat, Miss Kingston.”

“I do have to get back to my classroom, Principal Cavanaugh.”

He leans against his desk and points to the chair.

Helen sits in the chair furthest from Cavanaugh but he moves closer.

“I have some concerns about your welfare, Miss Kingston.”

“My welfare?”

“Are you being coerced into a relationship by an Alpha?”

“What? Jesus, no!” She says with a shake of her head.

“Helen,” Oh fucking Christ, he scootches closer, “You’ve always been so… uncomfortable around Alphas. It’s plain to see that you’ve been hurt in the past. And that’s why you push strong Alphas away.”

Helen works to school her face. 

_ This is your boss, _ she reminds herself, suddenly feeling the need to uncurl her fingers before she punches Cavanaugh.  _ He has authority, both as the Principal and as the resident Alpha. Do not lash out. _

“I can assure you, Principal Cavanaugh, I am not being coerced into anything.”

“And your… father approves of your new match?”

“My father has no issues with my partner.”

Cavanaugh inches closer and she wants to throw up, “I thought your father forbade you from seeing Alphas.”

“He had.” Not technically a lie, she tells herself. He had forbidden her to date as a teenager. “However, he is getting older and he wants to ensure I’m taking care of.”

“There are many Alphas capable of ensuring you are cared for.” Cavanaugh reaches to put a hand on her thigh, “Alphas who are closer to you, who understand you.”

“Remove your hand.” She tells him, keeping her voice soft and hating herself as she adds a demure, “Please.”

He squeezes her leg but acquiesces.

“I will cut to the chase, then. How much does your father want for you?”

Again, nausea fills her stomach.

“I am not for sale, Principal Cavanaugh.”

“Everything has a price, Miss Kingston. A principal makes more than you would think. I’m certain I can outbid and offer you a much better life than another. You would no longer need to teach…”

“I like teaching.”

“Then you may stay, at my side, through the school day and all night.”

“I’m sorry, Principal Cavanaugh, but I’m spoken for.”

His nostrils flare in distaste, “Yes. His scent is almost stronger than it was this morning. But no matter. I will reach out to your father and arrange a meeting.”

“My father approves of my partner.”

“Partner.” He scoffs, “that word alone tells me that you need better. You need someone to put you in your place, to remind you who you are.”

He reaches for her again and Helen backs up in her chair, rising to her feet.

“So skittish!” Cavanaugh says with a putrid smile, “I understand your fear, little one. But rest assured, I will never harm you. No more than you deserve. I will teach you to be a good Omega.”

“My father won’t approve another match.”

“Then I will challenge him.” He walks towards her and Helen finds herself turning to avoid being cornered. 

_ He’s the Principal. You can’t just stab him. And you can’t just leave him to offer a challenge… _

“I mean no disrespect towards your father. I have every intention of meeting with him. But I am declaring my intentions, dear Helen, to court you. And if your father takes issue, there are so many grievances I can file. I worry about your safety, my dear.”

She backs up so that she is against the door, her hand reaching back for the knob.

“Of course, you can reach out.” She says, as though her heart is not pounding away in her chest, “But my father is a busy man. A busy man who has already approved of a match.”

“We’ll just have to see what he says, then.”

Helen manages to twist the door open and steps out into the larger office. Without looking at anyone, she hurries to the teacher’s bathroom, locking herself in.

Helen makes it to the sink, leaning over it. 

Her face is red and her heart is beating erratically. She tries to breathe normally before she stumbles to the toilet and empties the contents of her stomach.

Fuck. 

Finally, she lives a life where she can have three meals a day and she isn’t even given the opportunity to keep it down. 

She wants to leave. To go away from the school, to get in her car and drive home…

And for the first time, that home is not the shabby apartment where she grew up. It’s a house across the bridge, with a view of the river and more space than anyone could possibly need. 

She rubs her eyes.

She is stronger than this. And Cavanaugh is not the first man to threaten her, nor would he be the last.

Helen had always known of the Principal’s interest in her. Known, and done her best to ignore it. It was hard, though, when he called her ‘dear’ or tried to question her personal life. But now…

_ It was bound to happen eventually _ .

She wants John. At the very least, she wants to go find Nicky and give him a hug so that she can smell something other than that sickening smell of acrid mud and clay.

Helen splashes her face with cold water. There were only a few hours left of the day. She could make it through. Just a few more hours and then she could go home.

And John… he would know what to do.

She did not love the idea of depending on another but John had the expertise to keep Cavanaugh off her trail, away from her father. He had the resources and she knows, just as she knows that the sun will set and rise again, that John would keep her safe.

There is comfort in that. 

His earlier words come back, letting her breathe with ease once more.

_ It doesn’t have to be you against the world anymore. I’m in your corner.  _


	5. Salvation

Helen sends an SOS to Nicky the moment she gets back to her desk and as soon as the final bell rings, he is at her door.

"What's wrong?"

"Cavanaugh tried to make a move on me." She tells him, "he wants to court me."

Nicky snorts at that. "Wick will kill him."

"Nicky!" She tosses her papers into her bag, "I'm serious! He wants to talk to my dad and try to outbid John."

"Again, best of luck, but he couldn't outbid Wick if he tried."

Helen slips the bag over her shoulder. "Can you just walk me to my car? I don't want him to approach me."

Nicky walks her out, making her promise to text him… yes, actually text, when she gets home.

"Relax, love." He tells her as she opens the car door. "Your dad would be an idiot to even consider Cavanaugh over Wick. Wick has money, power, prestige. There’s no contest.”

She shivers. No contest, unless Cavanaugh reaches out to find her father and finds nothing. If he follows through on his threat to report her father, if social services become involved...

She longs to tell Nicky, to explain the depth of her lies, but she can’t. Not here. And not like this. It needed to be a conversation and not a curbside confession.

Helen promises, again, to text him before driving away from the school.

Again, she is grateful for the car, if only because it means she does not have to go home on foot. She feels safer locked away from the outside world.

She distracts herself with the radio, humming along to old hits as she drives through Brooklyn and across the river to New Jersey. Again, she makes fantastic time and soon finds herself pulling into their garage. 

She fires off a text to Nicky that she is home and hurries inside.

John is sitting on the couch. An array of papers are spread over the coffee table and he leans over them, one paper in his hand as he scans it. He looks up as she enters and his nostrils flare.

Immediately, he is on his feet, stalking towards her. 

Without a word, she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the amber and peppery scent that somehow feels like home. 

All at once, the events of the day come flying back at her. From the high of her lunch break to the immediate crashing low of returning to the school Cavanaugh’s suggestions and thinly veiled threats.

She feels herself quake and John tightens his grip, murmuring softly to her that she is safe. That he has her. That nothing can harm her.

Helen feels herself choke on a breath.

“What happened?” John asks. His voice is soft but there is an edge to it that she has not heard before. The darkness that lingers just below the surface has risen.

She is suddenly very comforted by the fact that John Wick is on her side.

"Principal Cavanaugh. I've told him for years that my father doesn't let me see Alphas and…"

"And you went to work with my scent all over you."

She nods, "he says he's going to reach out to my father to make an offer but he won't be able to reach my father and if he doesn't reach him, he could make a formal inquiry."

John strokes her back soothingly, "I'll take care of it."

"You can't kill him."

"Why not?"

She pulls back and looks at him seriously, "you can't just kill everyone who makes me nervous."

"Why not?" He repeats, blinking.

She exhales a small laugh, "for starters, there will be an investigation. If the last thing Cavanaugh is found doing is searching for my father, it will be suspicious. Social services could get involved. I could…" Helen swallows, "I could be arrested."

"I won't let that happen."

"It might be beyond your control."

He closes the distance between them, tilting her head up, "I will protect you."

And she nods. She believes him and tucks her head into his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should've thought this through. I should have had a plan, should have been prepared."

"Its impossible to be prepared for every eventuality, Helen. Besides, I already have something in place."

She blinks up, "what do you mean?"

"I told you it was a possibility that Tarasov would investigate you. I was right. He set up a private investigator to look into you so I hired someone to pretend to be your father. An older spy who owes me a favor."

"And you think that will work?" 

John nods, "No one has seen your father in fifteen years. As far as anyone knows, he's a reclusive hermit. Francis has been at your apartment since yesterday, playing up being at the windows so it looks like someone is there. Answering the phone if it rings."

"When did you set all that up?" She asks in surprise.

"Saturday night, when you fell asleep. I promised you to protect you from Tarasov if he looked into your past." John keeps an arm around her and reaches for his phone. "It won't be an imposition for Francis to throw off the Principal. What's his full name?"

"James Cavanaugh."

John hits the call button and another to put the phone on speaker.

It rings a couple of times before a gruff male voice answers, "Kingston residence."

Helen blinks at the surreal feeling that arises at the man pretending to be her father.

"It's Wick." John says and, again, she notes the harsh inflection in his tone of voice. The tone she had heard with Tarasov and again with Marcus, so different from the soft way he spoke with her.

She breathes in John's scent.

"Ah. I was wondering if you'd be calling. Another man is hanging around. He came to the door to ask about the Omega."

"Omega has a name," Helen says tiredly.

John squeezes her.

"No disrespect, Miss." Francis says hurriedly, "said his name was Cavanaugh. Pitiful excuse for an Alpha."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted to make an offer. Told him I wasn't interested and had already signed a contract with another Alpha for her hand. Hope that's all right."

Helen breathes a sigh of relief.

"Perfect. Thank you, Francis."

"He was pushy, Mister Wick. Told me he'd give me time to reconsider since he has some… concerns for the lady's welfare."

"Did he specify what he meant?"

"Said she was out of control and… some other choice things I'm not sure I want to repeat in front of an Omega."

"Do you have your gear with you?"

"Yes, sir. I'm running a search on him now."

"Find out what you can. I want to know everything. His family, potential allies and friends, anything and everything that could be used against him."

"His criminal record came up clean but I'll keep digging."

"I'll be in touch," John says and turns the phone off. He tosses it back on the couch and reaches for her face, cupping her jaw between his palms. "We'll keep him away from you."

"I work with him." She says softly.

"I'm more than willing to kill him."

"I'm sure. But let's see what the search brings up. Maybe it won't come to that."

"Still," John presses a kiss to her head, "I'm not thrilled with the idea of you working with someone who blatantly disrespects you."

"He's an Alpha who couldn't rise to anything so he ended up the Principal of a bunch of betas and Omegas. He's a dime a dozen. There's one at every school in the city."

"It's bullshit."

Helen shrugs, "it's sex politics." She stands on her tiptoes and kisses his lips gently. "Thank you for everything. I always thought when people started asking questions, I would have to run."

"It's my fault he's pushing."

She shakes her head, "Cavanaugh has been pushing my boundaries for years. It was only a matter of time before he pushed to court me."

"Still…"

She kisses him again.

"If anything, you expedited the inevitable. And, if it was going to happen, I'm glad it did when I have you in my corner."

John swallows and, as she reaches up to kiss him, he places his hands at her waist. Her soft skin caves under his fingers and Helen’s hands reach up, one resting around his neck, the other gripping his hair.

He deepens the kiss, tightening his grip on her. Helen moans against him.

“John,” she rubs her body against his, “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He hikes her dress up to her thighs and lifts her easily into the air. Helen wraps herself around his body, digging her hands into his shoulders and her legs around his hips. 

Helen kisses him harder, heat rushing to her core.

John takes long strides, quickly crossing the living room. He adjusts her carefully before taking on the stairs. Her mouth fuses to his throat, sucking and nipping as John carries her up and down the hall. The door to the bedroom is open and he quickens his steps until he reaches the bed.

Helen moves her head, nibbling at the other side of his neck, and John deposits her on the bed, dropping his suit coat onto the ground. Helen pushes to a kneeling position, reaching up to help him strip off his vest and tugging his white shirt loose of his pants. 

The car had been good. Beyond good. It had been freeing to take control, to let herself feel things that had always been too dangerous to even consider. To touch and be touched.

But this was better.

John’s shirt, still missing the buttons from earlier, was quick to follow his vest and jacket. Her hands reach for his cheeks, pulling him back down for a kiss. 

John hungrily nips at her lips. So much time lost between them, so many years spent alone. Spending their lives alone, just making it through the day to day life.

John reaches around and tugs the zipper down her back.

Helen reaches for his belt, undoing it faster this time, with more room to maneuver. John pushes her dress off her shoulders as she rips the belt free of the loops. 

He slips the dress off of her and groans at the sight he was denied during their lunchtime quickie. 

Though her bra and panties are simple cotton, she may as well be wearing lingerie. The simplicity only highlights her soft, golden flesh. Her curves become more prominent and he wants to savor this. 

But Helen is not in the mood for patience, undoing the button on his trousers and tugging down the zipper. 

He grabs her wrist, stopping her, and pushing her back towards the bed.

“I’m not done!” She tells him, glaring without any real malice.

“I’m going to take my time with you.” He says lowly, tugging at her legs and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. His hands glide up her thighs, over the cotton of her panties, dragging along her stomach. 

Intimacy has never been his thing. It was hard enough to trust allies and he could count the people he truly considered to be friends on one hand, and even then, he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust all of them.

Yet he cannot, even for a moment, doubt Helen.

She is his salvation. His saving grace.

He is not sure why the universe saw put to bring her into his life, but he believes with every ounce of his being that Helen is his True Mate. His soulmate. 

And when she is looking up at him, her beautiful wide eyes so trusting, and he is still unsure how he has earned this… her trust, with her life, with her body. 

But Helen, his sweet and fierce Omega, is giving him a chance.

A chance he cannot waste.

He leans forward, crawling above her and, again, he kisses her. He cannot imagine ever getting used to the feeling of her soft lips against his nor the sweetness of her tongue. 

A hand cups her face and then trails down her chest, landing at the swell of her breast.

Helen hooks a leg around his hips, trying to pull him back down to her.

“Patience,” he whispers, kissing her jaw as he descends, pressing another to her soft flesh. A hand reaches around and he quickly unsnaps the bra.

Helen hastens to yank the straps down off her shoulders and discard it and John lets her, smiling as she carelessly tosses it across the room.

He lowers his head, kissing at her breast while tenderly caressing the other one. She squirms beneath his touch, whispering his name as his tongue flicks her nipple. Her arm reaches up, again, tangling her fingers in her hair and holding his mouth to her.

Helen moans, rolling her hips to meet his in a desperate attempt to alleviate the growing pressure within her. 

“John! Please!”

He drags his mouth across to her other breast, the beard scratching along her chest. “Please what?” And he resumes kissing her other side, rolling his nipple between his lips. She is shaking with need.

“Fuck!” She calls out, “Be patient later!”

“I have so many things I want to do to you.” He teases, dragging his mouth down her chest, and her stomach.

He crawls in between her legs and tugs the cotton from her legs, tossing it off the bed.

She is already soaking, slick coating her entrance.

He looks up at her and decides he quite likes the view that comes from laying between her thighs. Her chest is heaving with each heavy breath and she is looking down at him. Her lip is between her teeth and she rolls her hips up in offering.

“Please, John.” She breathes.

He can deny her nothing. His tongue slips between her folds and, just like he has imagined, she tastes like maple. Sweet and smoky and pure perfection. He licks her again, wondering if it is possible to drown and hoping against hope that this is how he dies.

With his head in between her legs and her thighs clenching around him in desperation. 

He rolls his tongue around her clit and Helen’s back rolls into the mattress, her hips rising up.

“John!” She wraps her fingers in his hair and yanks him back up. “If you aren’t inside me in the next ten seconds…”

He sheds himself of the trousers and boxers quickly before climbing back on top of her.

Immediately, she wraps around him. Her arms encircle his back, her legs hook around his hips.

He runs the tip of his cock against her wet center. He rolls his hips and slips inside of her, grunting at the feel of warmth around him.

“Fuck!” She moans loudly, pulling his head back down to kiss her.

He rolls his hips into her, his sweet Omega. Helen keens at the contact, crying out into his mouth. She digs her fingers into his back, desperately.

Nothing has ever felt so good, so perfect.

He pumps in and out of her as slow as he can manage but, Christ, her body feels like Heaven and he has spent his entire life consigned to Hell.

Helen gasps and turns her head towards the pillow. “Knot me.” 

“What?” he exhales.

“Knot me. Please, John.”

He clenches his nails into his hand.

Knotting was as intimate as anyone could get. He doesn’t deserve this… but he cannot deny her. He won’t deny her.

John wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her up, off the mattress. “Are you sure?”

“Please, Alpha.”

It seems impossible, but her words have him even harder. John removes himself from inside her long enough to turn her over, bending her over onto her hands and knees.

He angles himself back inside of her and wraps his arms around her.

“Yes, Alpha…” She moans, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “Of fuck…”

It was heaven to be inside of her, but this… oh this was  _ everything.  _ Somehow, he is deeper than before. He rolls his hips and Helen shrieks, nearly coming apart already.

And John can feel his knot building as if it had been waiting. For so long, for Helen.

He continues to thrust into her, squeezing gently at her breasts with one hand while the other helps support them both up.

“Harder!” Helen moans, almost losing her grip and falling onto the mattress, but John holds her up, in place.

He quickens his pace, “Sweet Omega…” He whispers, nipping at her neck. Every instinct he has tells him to bite down on her sweet mating gland but he won’t until she asks. Not until she is as certain as he is that this is their forever.

He can be patient. For her.

Helen cries out, “Alpha! Please! Alpha…”

John lowers his hand, reaching down between her legs. He touches her clit with his fingers and the dam breaks. 

At once, Helen is coming apart in his arms. She would have fallen, if not for the strong grip he has around her, as he continues to pump inside of her as she cums all around him. 

And his knot is swelling, growing inside her even as she cums.

The sensations are overpowering. Helen chokes on a sob as John feels himself start to be trapped by the knot.

He manages a few more thrusts before he spills inside her with a swear.

Helen rolls back against him, cumming again at the sensation of him growing.

He holds her tightly, whispering to her as she shallowly continues his thrusts. “My perfect Omega, so beautiful when you’re cumming on my knot…”

She whimpers his name and reaches back behind her, “Alpha.”

“I’m here, Omega. I’m right here.” He rolls his hips, “Still in your sweet, sweet cunt.”

Helen exhales and allows John to lower them both to a lying position on the bed. He spoons her, holding her tightly but still at an angle where he can continue to ride out his knot.

“John.”

“Did so good, baby.” He praises her quietly, “My Omega took my knot so well.”

She keens and bares her neck and it takes every ounce of him not to take that throbbing gland between his teeth and claim her for the world to see.

Instead, he presses a kiss to her neck and another to her ear.

“Are you alright?” He asks as her breathing begins to steady.

“I… I didn’t know it could feel like that.” She whispers back and John notes that she is still quivering from the aftershocks.

“Oh, Hel.” He kisses her head, tightening his arms around her. 

She looks back at him, somewhat in awe. “I feel you inside me.” She rolls her hips back against him, “Pulsing. Feels so good.”

John bites back a moan as she clenches against him.

“You’re like Heaven.” He tells her, reveling in the feel of her resting in his arms.

Helen wiggles back against him, making their bodies lie flush.

He kisses her head, "How do you feel?"

She sighs, "incredible." She rolls her head back looking up at John. "You're gonna be so tired when I make you do this to me every day."

Every day. Its the closest to a promise of forever he has received and John kisses her forehead.

"It will be worth it." He promises.

Helen smiles up at him and he knows he would do anything to keep that smile fixed on him.

"I want…" she hesitates briefly before resolve takes over, "I'm going to move my nest in here later."

And John resists the urge to punch the air in victory. Instead, he bends his head, capturing her lips.

She tucks her head into his shoulder and closes her eyes, suddenly exhausted by the day.

"Tired?"

"It was a long day."

“Rest, Omega.” He says, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

.

She comes awake to her body wrapped in strong arms.

Yeah, this was definitely something Helen could get used to.

His knot had deflated and she adjusts her hips so that his cock slips out. She glances behind her and turns so that she can rest her head onto John's chest.

His eyes are closed and she reaches up gently, her fingers running along his beard.

He looks so peaceful in his sleep.

She closes her eyes again and tucks her head against him, breathing in the scent of musk and earth and sex.

A hand lifts and wraps around her back. 

"Hi there." She whispers and John smiles, eyes still closed.

"Hi, beautiful."

She flushes, wondering if she will ever be used to him.

"Sleep well?"

"Wonderfully." She tells him and he blinks awake. "What time is it?"

He checks his watch. "Nearly six. Are you hungry?"

"A bit." She admits, remembering the fate of her lunch, "but I want to lay here for a minute."

"Okay."

It feels right, to breathe in his scent, lying between his arms. 

The house and the cars… that was a bit much. The displays of wealth, she thinks, will always make her a little uncomfortable but if every day ended like this, curled around him in a soft bed… that she could get used to.

The benefit of sleeping in his arms alone makes her think that… maybe… maybe this could work.

_ He is in my corner. _

But there was still so much she didn't understand about his world. The Underworld.

She needs to talk to Nicky.

"You're thinking very hard."

Helen nods. “I have… a lot to think about.”

“You do.” John agrees, pushing her hair back from her face. “And I know it can’t be easy.”

“There is so much I don’t understand about your world. So much I need to know and…” she feels the need to reassure him, “It’s not about you. I like you. I want you and you’re constantly on my mind and it honestly drives me a little crazy how much I crave your presence and…”

John kisses her.

She smiles against his mouth.

“I’m not taking it personally,” He assures her, “I know this is a lot. And you’re right. My world is very different from yours. It’s not all bad but it comes with dangers. The Claim, for example, only works with people bound by the High Table. There are still independent contractors and lower gang members who may still come after you.”

“Nicky says no one has directly gone after him.”

“Not to my knowledge, no.” John agrees, “But Nicky has also been trained. The D’Antonio’s would have started training him years before he presented just to be safe.”

Helen nods, “Their kids take karate and Ju-Jitsu. I always wondered why they needed both. Their daughter even takes fencing.”

“It’s common for children of assassins. They take their lessons at the Continental.” 

“That’s the safe haven, right?”

“Very good.” He kisses her forehead. “And, that is another thing you will need to consider.”

“Self-defense?”

“That’s a given. I was referring to children.”

Children. Her heart stutters in her chest. 

That had always been a dream out of reach. She couldn’t be a single Omega mother. It wasn’t heard of. And she had made her peace with that, long ago. 

But a glimmer of that was possible now. While she loathed the idea of being registered to anyone, having John's name and bite would allow her certain protections. 

At school, she did not always push as hard as she wanted because she could not risk a report being filed against her.

If John received a report stating that Helen was acting un-Omega, he would probably burn it.

And he is a good provider, she thinks, and a good protector.

And he was undeniably caring. For all of Nicky's comments about John being hard and tough, he had never acted that way towards her. She could not picture him acting that way towards children.

The opposite, in fact.

In her mind's eye, she can picture John getting up to calm a crying baby. She can picture a burp cloth over his suit jacket or running out in the backyard and kicking a soccer ball or tossing a little girl into the pool as she giggles.

"I never thought it would be possible." She admits.

"I was raised in an orphanage. I don't know the first thing about being a father but… I would try."

And her heart clenches.

She has been alone for fifteen years but John has been alone his whole life.

How can she possibly imagine leaving him to come back to this huge and empty house?

She can't. 

"We have time," she promises, "we don't have to make a decision today. And that may be something we want to talk to Nicky and Hasan about. The precautions they need to take." 

John nods, "I can't deny that I didn't think about it with you taking my knot. How beautiful you would look swollen with pups."

She flushes but holds his gaze.

"The room next door is good proximity for a nursery."

John smiles at that before admitting, "I'm a selfish man. I think I would like to have you all to myself for a little while first."

"I think that can be arranged."


	6. Vulnerable

John drives her to work the next morning, needing to be in the city himself. He bribes her with promises of a delicious dinner and an afternoon in Manhattan.

He also gifts her with a necklace. A daisy charm that hangs just above her breast with a gold center and delicate petals.

"It's a panic button!" He tells her, smiling as she rolls her eyes."I doubt Cavanaugh will try anything but if he does or if you see anyone watching you who makes you uncomfortable, at any time, press the center twice and it will send me a signal."

"You don't think you're being a bit overprotective?"

"I can't force you to wear it." He acknowledges, "but it would give me peace of mind, knowing you have it."

"It is very beautiful." And she acquiesces. Peace of mind is priceless and wearing such a beautiful item is hardly a burden.

She successfully manages to avoid Cavanaugh all day and Nicky comes to her classroom during his free period, filling her in more on what to expect at the Continental.

"It's just to sign paperwork." She explains at his look of disbelief when she tells him that she and John will be having dinner at the establishment.

"Merde, Hel. You need to understand, John Wick has never taken anyone to the Continental. Not to dinner, not for a quick fuck."

She glares over her coffee but he shrugs.

"It's true, Cara. Many assassins bring dates there because they can fuck in privacy without the threat of letting down your guard. They even have "Omega Services" that they provide for their patrons and Wick has famously never paid for one."

"What majestic restraint." She says without tone.

"I know," Nicky appeases her, "but come on. Half the Underworld thinks he's celibate and the other half are too afraid to even think John Wick's name. People are already talking. Hasani came home freaking out because he heard your name mentioned with Wick's. I had to distract him from driving off to confront Wick with a big brother talk."

"Thanks for that."

"Believe me, I'm never upset when I have to distract my husband."

"Ew."

"I assure you, it was nasty in the best way."

Nicky kicks her playfully, “Look, I’m just trying to give you a heads up. You’re a hot topic. People are curious about the woman who managed to tie down John Wick.”

"I didn't tie him down."

"He filed a Claim, Helen."

Nicky's eyes are wide and she knows she is, again, underestimating the rules of the Underworld.

"I just don't understand why they'd be interested in me. John, sure, but as far as they know, I'm just the Omega he's fucking."

"Hel, you are the  _ only  _ Omega the most dangerous man in the world has ever wanted. You're a curiosity if ever there was one. Just… don't forget the power you hold when you get to the Continental. Keep your head high and remember who you're with."

**.  
**

.

When they arrive at the Continental that night, she is suddenly grateful for the advice.

After school was over, John had taken her shopping in Manhattan. First, for a new dress. Though shopping was far from her favorite thing, she now feels grateful that John had the foresight.

Everyone in the Continental, from the staff to the patrons, are dressed to the nines.

She picks a black dress that shows just a bit of leg and makes her look taller than she is. It has a low cut back but a high neck. S imple, but bold. 

She may be John Wick's Omega but he is sure as hell  _ her  _ Alpha.

When the unpleasantness of dress shopping was done, John took Helen to his favorite book stores. 

They all greet him by name and shower him with attention. When John introduces her as his partner, immediately their attention turns to her.

But even that does not prepare her for the attention that walking into the Continental brings.

Her hand is tucked in John's and he gives her an encouraging squeeze.

She remembers Nicky's words and walks with her head held high and focuses her attention on John.

"You usually get stares like this?"

"On occasion."

"How do you deal with it?"

"I am content to let them wonder."

Helen shoots him a smirk. Of course, that is how John deals with it. Totally and completely confident in the fact that no one would dare question him.

And for all intents and purposes, that is who she needs to be in this world. In John’s world.  _ Walk like you belong and no one will suspect you don’t _ .

John leads her through the lobby, nodding to Charon who, to his credit, is not staring at Helen, even if his eyes do linger curiously.

He lets go of her hand and wraps his arm around her instead, doing his best to shield her from the incoming stares. The only saving grace is that they are all too afraid of him to dare to approach his Omega.

They make their way down to the restaurant on the lower level. They bypass the line and the host informs John that his table is ready. And they’re escorted quickly, John keeping at least one hand on her at all times.

“Breathe.” Helen tells him as the host walks away, "I can feel your tension from here. No one is going to hurt me."

"Damn right they won't."

Helen reaches across the table and slips her hand back into his.

"Look at me, John."

He does and she rewards him with a smile.

It occurs to her that this is not about John being afraid he can't protect her. He knows he can. Of course he can.

John is afraid, not for her safety, but that she really might leave him. Maybe for a nother Alpha who might be more suave; less hardened.

He knows he is a good killer. He is utterly terrified of not being a good Alpha, a good partner.

"It's okay." She tells him, "I'm here with you, John. That’s not going to change.”

His shoulders relax and she squeezes his hand. And John, bless his heart, flushes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Honestly,” she leans back but does not let go of his hand, “It’s nice to know that you feel vulnerable, too.”

"Never before you," and there is that hint of wonder in his tone, "but then you swept into Tarasov's office smelling like maple and looking like an avenging angel. I've been vulnerable ever since."

"John," she says softly and, yes, she thinks. She loves this man.

It’s not the time or the place to tell him, not when he is surrounded by enemies in a so-called safe haven. But she does.

She loves the way he gazes at her with complete adoration and how he encourages her. How he makes her feel like she isn't alone for the first time in a lifetime.

And he is unexpected, riding into her life like a knight in shining armor. And yes, he has resources but he is also so thoughtful. The daisy necklace. The cashmere sweaters that he bought her after realizing how fond she was of the cashmere blanket. The way he always picked a sweet wine with dinner because he knew that’s what she favored. How he reread Lysistrata just so he could have some context on her teaching.

The rest was just a bonus.

The waiter chooses that moment to come back Helen quickly chooses something to order while their wine is poured.

The menu is eclectic but still favors the Alpha’s pallet with lots of red meats and carbs. She eventually chooses the duck, which she has never had before, while John orders some fancy cut of steak.

When the waiter leaves, her hand slips across the table. 

John takes it, eagerly, and it makes her smile. His finger rolls circles in her palm and he stares at her with nothing less than adoration.

It was hard to reconcile the way his very name made Nicky tense. Her friend insisted that John Wick was dangerous but he was also so very soft.

John’s smile changes then, not disappearing, but lessening. It was gentler, less adoring and more amused, right as a bubbly little Omega bounced her way up to their table.

“Hi John!” She says smiling widely. Her gaze shifts to Helen and, it shouldn’t be possible, but her smile grows, “Hi! You must be John’s girl! I’m Addy. I work in the bar.”

“Hi Addy. I’m Helen.” Helen offers her a hand which the younger Omega takes happily.

“It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve only known John a couple of yea rs but he’s the best. My first week working here, a couple of the douchey-Alphas kept trying to get handsy with me and John set them straight. Since then, no one tries to touch me or any of the other Omegas who work here.”

And fuck, she loves him all the more.

John looks down.

"Anyway," Addy says before Helen can respond, "We're all super happy for you two. Well, most of us. A few of the single Omegas in finance are kinda pissed that John Wick is off the market but most of us are thrilled that John found someone."

"That's very sweet of you," Helen says, as John seems to shrink into his chair. She squeezes the hand that is still resting in his.

“It’s super nice to meet you. If you ever want to learn more about the Continental, I’m around.”

“Thank you.”

And Addy leans over to give John a quick hug and then disappears down the stairs.

John rubs his eye and Helen grins across at him.

“She’s one of a handful of people I don’t scare. I should have guessed that she’d come over.”

“She’s very sweet. Seems to adore you.”

He shrugs a shoulder noncommittally and that tells Helen everything. 

“You saved her from aggressive Alphas.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “She pours a mean bourbon.”

Helen scoffs, her smile widening, “You’re so bashful.”

“I’m not!” 

“You totally are.” Helen rubs her thumb along the outside of his hand, “I think it’s adorable. The Alphas are all terrified to look at you and the Omegas think you’re a sweetheart.”

“I don’t think anyone used the word ‘sweetheart’,” John is quick to protest.

“I did.” And she smiles at him. “And I happen to like that you’re a sweetheart.”

“Let’s just not go around telling anyone. My reputation as a killer helps keep you safe.”

“Sure, killer.”

And he can’t help but smile at the sass that continuously spills from her pretty pink mouth.

She nudges him with her foot under the table and, again, he is trapped in surreality. Because he feels her nudging him with her foot, her leg brushing against his. He can feel the warmth of her smaller hand in his and see the sparkle in her eyes but… it is too good to be real. She is too good to be here, with him.

“Who else should I expect to meet?” She asks softly. “Any of those Omega’s in finance I was warned about?”

John snorts, “I promise you, pet, you have nothing to worry about. I doubt anyone else will approach us while we’re in here. After dinner, I’ll introduce you to Winston. He’s the Manager of the Continental New York.”

Helen nods, “Nicky says that the Manager is the highest-ranking official in the city.”

“He’s correct.” John inclines his head, “I’ll admit, when you first told me you were friends with Nicolo Kareen, I was a little worried. We’re not enemies but we’re not allies, either. But now I’m glad you have someone, aside from me, you can talk to.”

“It’s the same world.” Helen says carefully, “But you have different perspectives on it. As an active agent…” she gestures to John, “And then Nicky, as an agent removed. On the outside, looking in.”

“Does it upset you that there are no Omega assassins?”

“The principle does. Which strikes me as… ironic. That I seem to place more value inequality than in life."

"An oversimplification."

"Do you really think so?" And her tone is curious as she leans in.

It dawns on him, suddenly, that this is truly the first time they've spoken about his occupation. She knew and they'd addressed it in a roundabout way but not like this.

"The people I kill…" John says, "and I am well aware that I'm in no position to cast judgment, but they are less than pure. Mobsters and heads of states. Terrorists and kingpins."

"I think we run into a whole other issue if we fail to define what constitutes as value." Helen shrugs a shoulder, "or maybe it doesn't matter. We're all victims of chaos."

Their meal arrives and John, reluctantly, let's go of her hand. 

Conversation changes to softer topics and simpler things. Literature and timelessness.

And again, it's surreal. Discussing such things in a den of assassins but her very presence seems to turn the world soft.

“Mister Wick.” they are interrupted by The restaurant host approached the table, “I hope everything is to your satisfaction.”

“It is. Thank you, Pylos.”

“I hate to interrupt your dinner but Winston just called down and  asked for your presence in the upper office.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, sir, Mister Wick.”

John glances apologetically at Helen as he stands up.

“It’s alright.”

“I’ll only be a moment,” John says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her head.

She smiles in return, reaching for her wine as he walks away. Now that John is gone, the stares fixed on her are more prominent. It should intimidate her, at the very least she expects her stomach to flutter with nerves.

But it doesn’t. 

Instead, she sips at her wine and marvels at the feeling of being out. Of not spending the evening hiding in her apartment and keeping anyone from looking too closely at her for fear that they would find out her secrets.

“You seem to have had an exciting week, Miss Kingston.” A familiar, accented voice says.

Viggo Tarasov takes John’s seat, his eyes narrowed.

An angry rush of heat swims through her and her hand tightens on the glass.

“Tarasov.”

“Your Alpha seems to have left you alone.”

“ _ My  _ Alpha knows I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I’m sure he does.” He stares at her, “You’ve been doing it for so long, haven’t you?”

_ He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. _

Helen only smiles. She will not waiver under Viggo Tarasov. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your mother died when you were young. That must have been difficult.”

“I managed.”

“And your father retired soon after. It’s strange. His friends say he became reclusive after her death. I could find no one who has seen him in over ten years. Not even for a doctor’s appointment.”

“My father lost faith in the medical profession after my mother was misdiagnosed.”

“Even still, your landlord reports that all payments are done online and that he has not seen your father in years.”

He had yet to accuse, which meant he had no proof. John's friend had done his job. Tarasov had  _ nothing _ . Just a suspicion. 

Helen relaxes back into her seat and puts on her best  scared Omega facade,I don't understand.er best  _ I’m just a scared Omega facade _ , “I don’t understand, Mister Tarasov. My father is at home.”

Viggo blinks down at her, hugging angrily. “Does Wick fall for that pathetic routine?”

“What pathetic routine?” Her voice quivers and, damn, she is  _ proud _ that she can pull off such a performance, “I don’t understand what you want."

“I want to know where your father is.”

“He’s at home, as he always is.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can call him, if you’d like. I can give you the number, although I don’t know why you wish to speak with him.” And it’s hard not to smirk because she knows damn well that Viggo has been calling her house and speaking to Francis.

“Rest assured, little Omega, that John Wick’s claim only protects your life. I can still have you picked up by protective services.”

Helen leans forward, immediately dropping the facade. “If you had anything,  _ Viggo _ , you would have already done something. But right now, you haven’t got shit.”

His nails clench in his hands and a temple throbs in his head. Viggo had turned red and looked like he was barely holding back from hitting her.

“You don’t know who you are playing with, girl. Do you know how many men I have at my disposal?”

“Send them. It’ll give John a good workout.”

Viggo takes a threatening step forward and Helen wonders how quickly she can get the knife off of John’s plate.

“Mister Tarasov." A voice says loudly and Tarasov turns. A small, somewhat portly man walks over. "I do not know what you hope to accomplish with this stunt but I suggest you leave before Mister Wick makes his way back down.”

Helen reaches and takes the knife while both men are distracted.

“Continental grounds, Winston." Ah. The manager, the one who John was supposedly meeting with… it was a distraction, Helen realizes. "Mister Wick would not dare to attack me here.”

“You sent him on a goose chase in order to terrorize his Omega. I dare say, I wouldn’t put it beyond John Wick to say to hell with the Continental and tear you apart.”

"I'd like to see him-"

“Do run along, Viggo.” Helen interrupts, and Winston shoots a look at her. “John may be bound to the rules of the Continental,” She pushes the tablecloth back, revealing the knife in her lap. “But I’m not. And I don’t appreciate having my dinner interrupted.”

"Do you know how to use that, Omega?"

She holds his gaze steady, speaking in a language that he knows. "John Wick is my Alpha. What do you think?" She twirls the handle in her fingers before allowing it to land in her palm.

"Leave, Mister Tarasov." Winston says, "and for your sake, do it quickly. Take the kitchen exit and hope that Mister Wick is in a forgiving mood."

Helen snorts and takes a sip of her wine.

With a final glare, Viggo turns and leaves, taking long strides towards the kitchen.

"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, Miss Kingston." Winston has turned his attention fully to her, "but my primary obligation is to this hotel and all its patrons. I am Winston."

"You may call me Helen, Winston. And I take no offense.”

She sees the waiter walking by and flags him down, “Could you please bring a glass of bourbon?”

“A good call,” Winston says with an approving smile.

“You were right to send Viggo away.” She tells the Manager. “God knows how that would have gone.”

And she sees John, tense and angry, walking back towards them.

“Jonathan…” Winston warns and John shakes his head.

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

“There was no harm done.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” John says, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not.” Helen rises to her feet and closes the distance between them. She loops an arm around his shoulders and tilts her head to the side so that he can smell her. Smell that there is no fear in her scent, no upset has been caused. “You’re going to sit down. And you’re going to finish dinner.” Helen tells him, rubbing her thumb against his neck soothingly. “And then we’ll sign whatever paperwork we need to and go home.”

John inhales deeply and… relaxes.

“Fine.” He says, bringing an arm up to cup the Omega to him.

Winston feels his mouth open in awe. John Wick went from being ready to commit murder on Continental grounds, High Table be damned, to disarmingly gentle in the space of five seconds.

Helen stands close, under his arm, letting John take the time he needed to remember that she wasn’t in danger. She was safe. And secure.

The waiter returned with the bourbon and Helen took it and handed it to John.

“Drink this. And sit your ass back down.”

Winston nearly choked as Wick smiled at her adoringly and followed her instructions.

Helen took her seat and John did the same. 

Helen smiles up at Winston, kindly, “We’ll come speak with you after dinner?”

“Uh, yes. Of course. A pleasure to meet you

,Helen. Jonathan.”

And he leaves, stopping at the front desk on the way back to his office.

Charon looks at him with curious eyes, “Sir?” He asks.

“I just met John Wick’s Omega.” Winston tells his second-in-command. “Do me a favor, Charon. Find out everything about Helen Kingston that you can.”

He returns to his office and pours himself a glass of brandy before sitting behind his desk.

John Wick’s Claim, placed on a stranger, had caused quite a lot of chatter in the underworld. Wick was notoriously disciplined and ruthless and he seemed to possess a skill that was almost inhuman. 

Some thought he wasn’t human.

_ Lo spectro. _ The Ghost.

_ Baba Yaga. _ The boogeyman. 

_ The Reaper _ . Death himself.

That’s what people thought of when they spoke of John Wick.

But, with Helen in his arms, he almost appeared human.

Winston hummed to himself. He could probably count on two hands the amount of times he had ever seen John Wick smile. Less, if he did not include smirks.

And yet, John Wick had gazed at the Omega with adoration and love and a warmth Winston had never imagined the assassin to be capable of. It was… disconcerting

Almost as disconcerting as listening to John Wick’s Omega taunt Viggo Tarasov. He had arrived at the restaurant as soon as he could. The moment he heard that John had been supposedly sent to find him, he knew that someone had been stupid enough to try and play with Wick’s Omega.

He had rushed to the restaurant as quickly as he could, ready to do damage control with the Omega. Instead, she had told Tarasov that he didn’t have shit. Then, she had practically dared him to try and send men after her, teasing  _ It’ll give John a good workout. _

John had been right. His Omega was fierce. More than capable of standing on her own two feet in the world of assassins. 

And when she had threatened Tarasov with the knife…

Well, John Wick had his hands full.

It was almost amusing to think.

There is a knock on the door and John enters, his hand clasped in hers proudly.

Winston assumes that Helen must know what those hands were capable of. She was here, in the Continental, a nd with the way she had threatened Tarasov, she had to know. The hand in hers had squeezed the life out of dozens. It had pulled triggers and thrown knives at hundreds more.

Helen smiles at the Manager.

It's a kind smile, he notes. A kind smile and a quick tongue from the verbal lashing she had given Tarasov.

All at once, he is no longer worried about John's decision to place a claim on a stranger.

…

…

Helen refuses to tell him what Tarasov said to her until everything is done. It makes him tense but she won’t budge. That makes him more tense because whatever it is was bad enough that she thought he couldn’t control his temper.

He is unhappy but she distracts him, regaling him with tales from her childhood and from college and of her ridiculous students.

He doesn’t want it to work but it does. Perfectly.

She smiles and he comes undone.

It drives him mad.

They walk down to Winston’s office and he passes the staircase he had ascended earlier, thinking he was to meet with the Manager, only to find it a goose chase. He starts to tense and Helen spins in front of him, throwing an arm around his neck and pulling his head down so she could whisper in his ear, “I think I want you to fuck me before we leave.”

And that’s just not fair.

At once, the anger leaves his body and all he can think about is how that dress will look pooled at her feet.

He wants to kiss her senseless in the middle of the lobby.

But he doesn’t.

Not when there are people staring at her curiously.

John sighs and promises himself there will be time later.

He takes her to Winston and she signs the Claim. It is technically unnecessary for the Omega to do such but, were someone ever to question its legitimacy, he could show her consent and prove that it was not a farce.

The Executer comes in next with more documents to sign. She doesn’t ask what they are, probably assuming they’re related to the Claim, and he doesn’t tell her otherwise. Not yet. He doesn’t want her to feel manipulated into making any sort of decision. He doesn’t want her to think that anything will change if she decides to leave.

It won’t.

She has signed onto his assets. Were anything to happen to him, his properties and fortunes would all go to her.

No matter what happens, Helen is his beneficiary. And the Claim would last long past his death. She would be untouchable.

Winston congratulates them on the Claim. Helen thanks him, respectfully, and rests her head against John’s shoulder.

What, John wonders, had he done to deserve this?

He is sure there is nothing he has ever done worthy of such affection.

They leave Winston’s office and John wraps both arms around her as they reach the hallway. He tugs her in close to his chest and kisses her head, “Would you like to go home? Or stay here for the night?”

She hums and looks up at him, “Well, I did say I want you to fuck me here.”

He growls and nibbles at her ear. She smiles, rolling her head against him. “Come on, John.” And she pulls him back to the lobby.

He pays for a room and Charon hands him a key. Keeping Helen under an arm, he leads her to the elevator. The metal grates shut behind them and John lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his hips and kisses him. 

He tastes like bourbon and it’s not a taste she ever imagined liking but she is addicted to his mouth coated in whiskey.

He backs her up into the wall, pinning her in place while his tongue explores the depths of her mouth.

John does what he had longed to do in the lobby and kisses her senseless until she is moaning into his mouth and rubbing her chest against him.

The elevator door opens and he readjusts her weight, not letting her slip as he carries her from the elevator down the hall. With one hand, he gets the key in the door as she continues to kiss him, dragging her mouth down his neck.

The door opens loudly, pounding into the wall and John removes the key and tosses it away. He’ll find it later. 

He has something more important to attend to.


	7. Love

It's adorable how thrilled she is with the little soaps and shampoos that come with the room. She beams, excitedly, showing him each one and John pretends he has not seen them a thousand times before. 

He wonders how she'll react to the macaroons in the mini-fridge in the Paris Continental or dolcini in Rome.

Summer was coming soon and he'd have a few months of her company all the time.

She is wrapped in the terry cloth bathrobe, her mussed, and dress, indeed, pooled somewhere on the floor. She stares out the window.

He feels bad. If he had thought about it, he would have asked for a room with a better view, but Helen looks content to stare out at Manhattan and the lights.

John watches her from the bed, a hand-thrown back to prop his head.

She looks back at him and smiles.

"Come here." He whispers and his heart thrills when she does. Helen climb back onto the bed and crawls onto his lap, straddling him.

Her hand caresses his bearded cheek.

John smiles, resting his hands on her hips.

"Are you going to tell me what Viggo said to you?"

Helen sighs and rolls off his lap and crashes onto the bed next to him.

“I love when you bring up Viggo Tarasov as pillow talk.”

John growls and rolls back on top of her, kissing her face all over until she laughs under his touch.

She sighs softly as he pulls back and looks at her. "It really wasn't that bad. He indicated that he knows about my father but he can't get proof. I think he was just trying to scare me a bit."

John nods, "it'll be hard to find proof unless he finds his body. Right now, he's just angry that an Omega made him look moronic. The rumors going around the Continental aren't too kind to him."

Helen snorts, “I can’t be the first Omega to have made Tarasov look moronic.”

“Maybe not, but you did so publicly. Tarasov tried to respond in kind. Probably thought he could shake you up by approaching you without me there.”

“He definitely thought along those lines.” Helen runs her hands up and down John’s arms. She is invested in the conversation but god, his body was so distracting. It really isn’t fair that anyone looks so attractive. “But I know there might be more fall out. I did not give him what he wanted.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” John says and he brushes a thumb across her lips. 

“I… may have given it back a little better than I got it.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a touch of amusement in his tone but she can tell he is wary for her safety.

She shrugs a shoulder, almost looking embarrassed as she admits, “He may have threatened me a little by reminding me how many people work for him and I might have dared him to try to get any of his men passed you.” At John’s look of incredulity, she hurries to add, “And I threatened him with a knife?”

There’s a beat, a pause and John just stares at her.

He lets out a laugh, deep and echoing, and it's almost uncontrollable. His head comes down to rest on her shoulder as John continues to shake with laughter.

Helen had seen him smile, and she was sure she had seen him smile more than anyone else in the world, and she had heard him laugh and chuckle, but this… this was new.

She brings a hand up and cups the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. There is pride that she can make him laugh like that. Humor in the way he comes undone. Adoration in the way his body quakes as he laughs.

“I love you.”

It slips from her lips before she can even think about it and, almost instantly, his laughter ceases. She starts to regret the words that have brought him from his state of joy but he looks back up at her and she sees something else. Something new.

Vulnerable.

John Wick is looking at her and he is utterly vulnerable, as if he doesn’t trust what he has heard.

She wonders, idly, if he’s heard it before.

He must have.

Yes, there had been years in an orphanage and with unstable caregivers but she was a teacher and she told her students constantly that they were loved and worthy of love. She swallows. But god, his childhood had been terrible. He had run away as a kid. Had ended up in the Marines before going back to an underworld devoid of softer things.

So she says it again, softly, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks, “I love you.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to do, her sweet, dark man. So she kisses him.

Helen lifts her head and brings her lips to his.

Life hasn’t been kind to John Wick. But she will be.

The world might beat him down during the day but she will patch him up at night. 

The kiss ends and Helen keeps her head raised, pressing her forehead to John’s. She closes her eyes and savors the closeness. The warmth of his body. The rich scent of amber and the slight hint of pepper. 

It was hers.

They still needed to talk. They still needed to sit down and discuss what it would mean for her to accept him, not on a trial basis. For her to move in with him for real. The good, like bringing her books to add to his, and the bad, like figuring out how to transfer Omega guardianship.

But there is time for that later.

Right now, she just wants to hold him. For forever, if possible, but at least through the night.

"I love you, too."

He says it softly and his voice is deep, filled with emotion.

She thinks he has never heard it before but she is almost certain he hasn't said it before.

Helen feels her lips curl. Those words are meant for her and her alone.

She kisses him again and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

He slows her down, sucking on her lip and savoring every taste of his sweet Omega. Because John Wick knew he was not meant for heaven and this might be as close as he ever makes it.

Her sweet tongue breaches his mouth and he feels himself hardening yet again. Her lips, her tongue… everything about her is soft. 

His world isn’t soft. It’s never been soft.  _ He _ isn’t soft.

He’s not sure he could be. No matter what, he would live a life always looking over his shoulder. He would always have a gun under his mattress.

How can he be enough for her?

But here she was, wrapping a leg around his, her arms encasing him, embracing him. Her mouth was on his and her body writhes beneath him.

Helen reaches between them and unties the sash of her robe. John helps to push it off her shoulders before his mouth descends back to her neck.

He sucks and rolls his tongue against her mating glands.

She whimpers and he slips a leg between hers, nudging her thighs apart.

Her hands dig into his shoulders but John continues to slide down her body. He kisses her throat, her chest, before descending to her breasts.

John loves how sensitive her body is, he adores the way she writhes beneath him and tries desperately to grind her wet core up against his stomach. 

"John!" She moans as he gently bites the flesh of her breast. He doesn't stop, swirling his tongue around her nipple and sucking at every inch of skin.

If he can't mark her neck, he will cover her blues and purples and reds.

He switches attention to the other, continuing to kiss and suck and bite. Anything to make her thrash and scream out.

John takes his time. They have time.

He runs his hand and his mouth along her body before settling between her thighs. She looks down at him, her lip caught between her teeth. She is dripping already and he places a gentle kiss to her thigh, teasing her with waiting.

Her hips roll and John ignores her silent request, kissing the other thigh before looking up at her.

She’s glorious and she’s  _ his. _

John licks up her soaked slit and she swears, thrusting her hips into his face. He decides, then and there, that he’s not going to stop until she’s begging for him. 

He pushes her legs up and over his shoulders while he buries his face in her sweet core. Kissing her, licking her, nipping at her soft and soaking skin. Her scent and taste is maple. Sweet and earthy, like honey. 

Death has always seemed like something out of reach for John Wick. He was fairly certain he couldn’t die. Between bombs and machine gun fire, falling buildings, and getting hit by half a dozen cars, he had miraculously walked away without any real consequences. He’d been shot and stabbed and cut all kinds of ways. Nothing had come of it.

But if he could die, and maybe one day he would, he hopes that it would be with his face in her sweet pussy.

Helen’s hands sink into the covers and fist the blankets. 

“Fuck!” She swears, “John! Please!”

“Please what?”

And it’s almost foreign to say that. To tease.

He’s never teased before. Especially not like this, almost taunting as he doesn’t wait for a response before his tongue finds its way back to her clit. 

She starts to say his name but it quickly terms in a scream.

_ Oh _ , he thinks,  _ that’s a sound I need to hear again _ .

He quickens his tongue and her thighs clench around him.

Words stream from her lips but they’re incoherent. It’s not begging, but it’s close enough, John decides and he sucks her clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue against it. Hard.

And his Omega comes undone.

Helen trembles and cries out and John replaces his mouth with his palm, crawling back up her body. His hand rolls against her, guiding her through the course of her orgasm while John’s mouth covers hers, swallowing her cries. 

He wonders if she has ever tasted herself before but doesn’t linger on the thought. Even as the orgasm breaks, she shakes slightly in his arms. But Helen is not done.

She wraps her legs around him and reaches between them as she does. 

He’s hard, although he’s done his best to ignore it, focusing his attention on other, more important things. She touches him and John feels himself grow impossibly harder. Again, he is struck by what this little Omega can do to him.

People had spent years trying to find a way to tear him apart and then Helen had stormed her way into his life.

Her hand slides up his length and he feels her lifting her hips into his. Still, he lets her take the lead, guiding his tip into her. She rolls her hips and sinks down.

John wonders if it’s possible to hold out and not just spill inside her immediately. Fuck.

Her arms slip back around him and she kisses him. Her tongue breaches his mouth and slides against his. Her teeth nip at his lips and he immediately feels guilty for ever considering that all Omegas were gentle.

Helen rolls her hips up and wraps a leg around him. 

Her hand weaves itself into her hair and she yanks his head to the side and off of her mouth. She catches his earlobe between her teeth before whispering, “You don’t need to be gentle, John.”

He makes a sound low in his throat and maneuvers his forearm over both of her arms and chest and presses her into the bed. She bites her lip and her pupils dilate.

“I can fuck you hard,” he growls, “but I can’t guarantee how long I’ll last, pet.”

Helen feels herself clench at the thought and John groans, keeping her pinned down while letting his forehead rest against hers for a moment.

“I don’t need you to last long.” She says, digging a heel into the bed and thrusting her hips up against him.

Quickly, John moves his forearm from her chest and wraps the arm around her back, pulling their bodies together as he quickens his pace. He thrusts inside her and Helen tightly wraps her other leg around John’s hips and she clings to him. 

“Fuck, John,” she gasps, burying her head in his shoulder as he slams into her sweet body again and again. Her words become incoherent and he wonders if he can make her come again, just from this. 

He grinds down against her, trying to stimulate her clit against him.

She swears again, a sweet mix of his name amongst profanity and little pleas for him to move faster, harder.

He can’t deny her anything. Ever. But he especially cannot deny her anything when she is wrapped tightly around his body and he is buried deep in hers.

John fucks her into the mattress, reveling in the sounds she makes, the warmth of her body, and the sweet, sweet smell. He’s not sure how he’s gotten this far without her, how he lived a life without kissing her and how he’s managed to make it through each and every day. And, fuck, she is falling apart again.

Helen cries out, tensing around him, holding him even tighter as her pussy throbs around him.

He feels a moment of relief, knowing that she has found release again, and then feels himself let go. Her name slips from his lips as he spills inside her. His hips continue to rut against her as he comes before finally allowing himself to collapse on top of her. 

Arms continue to hold him against her and Helen’s hand is, once again, tangled in his hair and holding his head against her shoulder.

“I love you.” She says, placing a kiss on his head.

He already wanted to hear them again and again. John wasn't used to wanting things. Was this greed?

"I love you too." He says softly, holding her body to him as he rolls to his back. She laughs as she lands on top of him and nuzzles her head against him. She presses a kiss to his neck and  _ this _ is his life.

She loves him.

He can’t stop thinking that.

She loves him and Helen is sweet and good and fierce and  _ his _ . He trusts her and he trusts that when she says such strong words, that she means them.

She loves him.

And he knows, just as she does, that there is still so much they need to discuss. That a declaration of love is not a promise of forever but it was in the right direction.

She shared his bed and she owned his heart.

He’s going to mate her and marry her and do whatever it takes to make her happy.

Whatever she wants, however, she wants. 

John wonders how difficult it would be to get her a ring with diamonds in the shape of a daisy. While he usually just uses the Continental services to supply his own watches and to create the panic button necklace for Helen, he thinks he’ll try a more specialized jeweler for a ring. He’s sure Charon will be able to recommend someplace.

Helen’s head lolls to the side and he smiles. His sweet Omega has had a long night following a long day of teaching.

He checks the time on the bedside table. It’s early in the morning and he really should join her in rest. He tells himself he will, soon enough, and John carefully slips out from under Helen. She huffs in her sleep and, fuck, he is  _ beaming _ .

John pulls the blankets up from the pile at the end of the bed and tucks her in before grabbing his phone off the table. A quick text to Charon and he is sure he will have all his requests fulfilled. 

There is a single message on his phone and it is from Winston.

_ I’m not sure how you managed to get that wondrous Omega to even look at you but do be sure to tie her down quickly. I would hate for the Continental to lose such a gem. _

****  
  


…

Helen wakes to the smell of coffee and the feeling of a large weight settling on the bed. An arm slides around her waist and she smiles.

John’s beard grazes her cheek as he leans over to kiss her cheek. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She yawns back, rolling her body back into his.

He kisses her cheek again, his mouth descending down her jaw and towards her mouth. “Time to get up.”

She laughs softly as he continues to pepper her with kisses. Helen turns her head and looks over her shoulder. “I’d rather stay in bed with you all day.” And she kisses his lips.

He already tastes like coffee and he’s dressed in slacks, a white button-down, and a vest. He tucks her hair back. “That could be arranged, pet.” He kisses her neck, lingering on her pulse point. “Call out.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“One day.” He tempts, squeezing the flesh of her waist, “Be bad.”

Helen hums, “Don’t tempt me. I can’t.”

“Even one day? I could take you back to the beach. Or down to Coney Island for the day. Or I could take you to a museum,” he whispers, “Or maybe we stay right here. In bed. And I see how many times I can make you cum.”

And, oh, that was more tempting.

“You can’t follow instructions, can you, John?”

“It’s not my forte, no.”

“Mister Wick participates in class but refuses to follow directions.” She kisses his jaw, “I’m sorry to say, you might not get an ‘A’ from me.”

“Well, if I’m doing badly in class, I’m sure there’s something I could do to make it up to you, Miss Kingston.”

She grins up at him, “Well, you can start with that coffee you brought me.”

“How do you know it’s for you?”

“Because if you got coffee and you didn’t get me any, John Wick, you’ll be sleeping alone.”

He laughs and rolls back up off the bed. She admires the way his slacks cling to his ass as he crosses to the table near the window. Indeed, there are two cups of coffee sitting there.

Helen pushes to a sitting position and rubs her eyes. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Six. I let you sleep in since it won’t be too long a drive and we showered last night.”

He hands her the to-go cup and watches as she sips.

She yawns again before taking another sip.

"Feel better?"

She nods.

"Feel up to playing hooky?"

She gives him a small smile, "another day, yes. But I've been neglecting my grading a bit. I need to finish up and hand back the practice tests to my students with enough time for their test on Friday."

"Lysistrata still?"

She shakes her head and stifles another yawn, "that's for the juniors. The seniors just finished the Divine Comedy."

"All of it?"

She nods, "it's a composite of all three parts."

He slips on his suit jacket, buttoning it up. "You're a good teacher."

"I try."

There's a knock at the door and she looks up at him with a furrowed brow.

"Breakfast."

She moans happily, "You're an angel."

John snorts as he crosses to the door. "Hardly."

Helen pulls the blankets up to cover her body and John opens the door. He slips out of sight and returns a moment later with a cart.

There had been years where breakfast was a cup of coffee and, if she was lucky, a piece of fruit.

She was still getting used to the full breakfasts. She'd have to be careful. She was certain she'd be gaining weight from having multiple meals a day and that meant new clothes.

Which John would probably trip over himself to provide. 

They'd have to talk about that, too. Setting limits on John spoiling her. She knew he had money. Serious money. She also knew he kind of got off on providing for her.

But maybe they could come to a compromise. She'd move in with him and stop having to use her entire paycheck to pay for her father's apartment. Instead, she could use it on little luxuries. New clothes and books and things for her classroom.

John wheeled the cart to the bed and uncovered a plate with pancakes and strips of bacon. The cakes are dusted with powdered sugar and a carafe of maple syrup rests by its side. 

Sliced strawberries decorate the plate and its all she can do not to moan.

"Fuck yeah," she says as John hands her the plate.

Helen leans against the headboard and tries to remember if she's ever had breakfast in bed (because snacking on protein bars between waves of heat did not count).

John takes the second plate and walks around to join her back in the bed. He sits facing her, eating his protein scramble. 

"What's your plan for today?" She asks, a bit frustrated by how foggy her mind still was. He had driven her to the city so he'd need to drive her home after work.

He swallows, "some light stalking of someone I've been tasked with dealing with."

She blinks and attempts to translate John-speak. "You're going to follow someone you're gonna kill?"

There's a twitch of his lips, "more or less."

"Have you killed anyone since we met?"

John nearly chokes on his bite.

No one had come close to killing him in years but Helen Kingston was going to be the absolute death of him.

"What?" She asks, "is that a faux pas?" Helen lowers her voice, "do we not talk about the killing?"

John reaches for his coffee on the bedside table and swallows back a large sip. "We can… talk about it if you'd like.”

Helen shrugs a shoulder, “You’ve taken an interest in my work. Why shouldn’t I take an interest in yours?”

There were plenty of reasons she shouldn’t take an interest in what he does but he decides to let it go.

“So. Have you?”

“No. Not since the day before.”

She looks at him expectantly until he elaborates.

“It was for Tarasov. A member of a rival, up-and-coming, Ukrainian gang. I took out their leader and his second-in-command.” He watches her carefully as he talks. She doesn’t seem to be phased by his words as evidence by the way she is still eating her pancakes.

“You’ll pick me up after work?” She asks and the whiplash from her questions hits him just as hard as anything.

“Of course. Would you like me to bring lunch again?”

“If you’re not too busy.”

She shifts her plate to the side and crawls forward until she is by next to him. Helen curls up in the space next to him, resting her head against his thigh.

John pets her head gently, “You need to get up if you’re not going to play hooky with me.”

She groans and nuzzles her face.

John sets his plate down and rubs back, “Come on.”

She makes another sound that is not quite words and it makes John smile. “Gotta get my baby more coffee.”

She smiles at that but doesn’t get up.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He says again, lifting her off the bed and tossing her over his shoulder.

"Hey!"

He gently swatted her ass as he carried her into the bathroom. He sets her down on the sink and she tosses her arms around him before he can go. She presses a kiss to his cheek and murmurs, "I think my clothes from yesterday are in the car."

He kisses her forehead. "You have so little faith in me." 

She blinks, "oh no."

He closes the bathroom door and, sure enough, there is a garment bag.

"John…"

"I didn't want you to have to wear the same outfit two days in a row. Between your students and Cavanaugh, I didn't want you to be given a hard time."

There's a lot she can say but she puts her hand on his cheek, "that was very sweet of you. Thank you."

He looks relieved as if he was expecting an argument, but she only smiles, sliding off the counter and lifting the bag up.

There's a grey skirt and a light pink button-up sleeveless shirt. Around it, a soft blue sweater drapes around the top.

"Do I want to know which poor soul was tasked with finding a boutique open this early?" She asks, taking the outfit off the hanger. Beneath it, there is a matching set of white satin lingerie.

"I didn't ask, I just sent an order to the front desk after you fell asleep and had it delivered an hour later."

She shakes her head at what large amounts of money could accomplish.

Helen pulls the lingerie on and smirks at the darkened look John now sports.

She finishes getting dressed and John packs their clothes from last night in a bag. She does the best she can with her hair but its mostly a loss cause of loose curls and bedhead.

When she walks out, John stops dead.

"What?"

His gaze slides down her body and back up, "it occurs to me that you're going to be spending all day in that outfit among horny teenage boys. While I have a general rule about not killing anyone under eighteen, I'm considering changing my policy."

Helen snorts and finds her coffee. It was mostly empty but she takes the last drops happily.

"Do you want to stop and get another coffee on the way to work?" He asks, swinging the bag up and around his shoulder before opening the door.

She shakes her head, stifling a yawn, “Nah, I’ll get one in the teacher’s lounge. I need to grade anyway."

He wraps an arm around her and kisses her head. He has never been so grateful for an empty elevator as both Helen's arms come around his body and she rests her head against his chest.

John takes in her scent, doing his best to calm himself before their inevitable separation and idly wonders if it will ever get easier to part from her side. Doubtful.

There is a ding and the grates open at the lobby. He kisses her head and she settles to rest her hand in his as John leads her to the desk. The same concierge from the night before stands at the counter speaking with Winston.

“Good morning Jonathan. Helen.” The Manager greets.

“Morning.” Helen says sleepily.

Winston does a double-take. He almost didn’t recognize her from the fierce woman he had seen last night.

John smiles fondly at his sleepy partner. “She’s on the first cup of coffee. Until the second kicks in, she’s damn near docile.”

“Bite me.” Helen says, but there is no aggression in her words, especially coupled with the way she tucks her head against John’s arm. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"All mine, my dear, I assure you. I hope we see you again soon."

She gives a small wave to Charon and follows John back out front. His car is waiting just outside the hotel and John opens her door. She slips inside and closes her eyes. Her teaching bag is still in the front seat where she left it yesterday.

There were tests that she should have graded but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The driver side door opened and John slipped in, setting a hand on her thigh. “Last chance. Are you sure you don’t want me to stop for coffee?” He teases. 

Helen shakes her head, “No,” And even as she says it, she yawns, “The school’s coffee isn’t that bad. And I should get to work.”

He squeezes her leg once and then turns the car on. News is softly playing over the speaker as he drives to Brooklyn.

It’s surreal, she thinks, looking out the windows as they drive past her old neighborhood. This was where she shopped, where she searched for whichever foods were discounted. This was where she walked down to the subway to get to school. Where she went for jogs on days she had far too much energy or her heat was due soon.

It had been days but it felt like a lifetime. 

It no longer felt like home, not that it really ever had.

It was a place she lived because she had nowhere to go. She could fake her father’s signature but she couldn’t go to a bank and pretend to be him. She couldn’t move without permission from an Alpha so this was where she was stuck.

And then there was John.

A part of her was pissed at herself; that for all her independence, for all the time and effort she put into maintaining her identity, she hadn’t been able to dig herself out.

She didn’t want to be just a woman John Wick had saved.

Helen looks back over at John. He’s so focused as he drives and he’s not just watching other vehicles. He’s watching the people in each car, the ones walking down the street. He even looks down alleys and in as many windows as he can, just driving her to work.

Always on guard.

Maybe, she thinks, she has it the other way around.

John had saved her from a lie that would one day fall apart. He had saved her from poverty and from a life of loneliness.

But maybe she could save him, too. From a life of always looking over his shoulder. From a life where he went home to a big empty house.

Helen reaches over and rests her hand on his thigh. 

He doesn’t look over but the corner of his mouth tips up in a smile. John transitions to holding the steering wheel with one hand and sets the other on hers. 

“I love you,” John says.

“I love you too.”

They ride the rest of the way in silence. Helen closes her eyes and breathes in his scent for as long as she can. His car is drenched in his scent.

It makes sense. This is the car that he drives to work in. That he goes to kill in. That he comes back from kills in.

Of course, it smells as Alpha as it can possibly get.

After a few minutes of breathing him in, the car jerks into place and she hears the click of the gear shift going into park. 

She hums in annoyance and John squeezes her hand. “We’re here.”

Helen opens her eyes. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“11:20. I’ll be here.”

“I’ll miss you.” And that’s the truth. 

He leans over and kisses her. Soft and slow and sweet.

“Be safe today.” She tells him.

“I’m not going after anyone.”

“But you’ll be  _ stalking _ .”

John smirks and runs a hand down her cheek, “I’ll be careful.” He promises. “Have a good day at work.”

She leans into his palm and kisses his hand.

“Love you.”

Helen grabs her bag and opens the door.

“I love you too.”

She glances back at him and gives him one last smile before closing the door. 

John watches as she crosses the parking lot. It’s still early and the lot is mostly empty. A few students sit on the front steps of the school and Helen greets them as she hurries up the steps and then, she is out of sight.

_ I just dropped my mate off at work _ . 

That thrills him more than it should.

He throws the car into reverse and heads out. His drive is not far and he soon leaves his car with another valet as he enters a storefront.

“Mister Wick, I presume?” A man in a suit offers him a hand.

“Yes.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Hamish and I’ll be helping you with your order. Charon mentioned that you wanted something commissioned?”

Hamish leads him past a room filled with cases of jewelry and into the back, where the real merchandise was stored. There is a desk with a sketchbook and Hamish sits down with a pen. 

“Alright, Mister Wick, describe to me what you would like in a ring.”


	8. A Fucking Pencil

Helen goes straight to the teacher’s lounge, trying to blink herself awake. There’s still a good forty minutes before the start of the school day and the halls are mostly empty except a few clubs meeting before school.

She opens the door to the lounge and nearly swears.

"Good morning, Miss Kingston.” Cavanaugh is standing at the coffee machine, “Coffee?"

She considers turning back and just texting John to bring her a Starbucks. She knows he would, without a second thought, but he has a life too.

She forces herself to smile, "yes, please."

“Cream and sugar.”

“Yes.”

Helen takes a seat at the end of the table and takes out the stack of pre-tests that had yet to be graded. She was always great about handing assignments back the next day but she couldn't bring herself to care that the kids had to wait a full two days and, still, they weren't done.

They'd all live.

Cavanaugh sets the coffee in front of her and she thanks him quietly, not looking up from the grading. She definitely wasn’t in the headspace to be doing such but anything was better than engaging with the Principal.

He pulls out a chair and she tries not to sigh as he sits down next to her.

She takes a sip of the coffee. It was a bit sweeter than she liked it but it was still drinkable. And it would make grading all the more bearable.

Most of her students were bright but there were a handful of kids who were only in her advanced literature class to appease their parents or potential college admissions boards. Helen was the first to admit it wasn’t an easy class for those who lacked the passion for stories and history.

One such student has written,  _ It’s all about God, I guess _ in response to the major themes.

Helen reaches for her coffee and gulps it back, shaking her head at the response. In a red pen she writes,  _ try to dig deeper _ .

Helen continues to flip through papers, drinking the rest of her coffee until there is nothing left. She tosses the cup to the trash.

“What did you do last night, Miss Kingston?”

And he was talking to her. She purposely doesn’t look up as she lies, “Not too much.”

Cavanaugh makes a small hum, “You weren’t home last night.”

Her head shot up. “Did you follow me?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She should have left. She should have turned around and gone to her classroom and texted John to bring her a coffee. 

“Of course not. I went to see your father again and you weren’t home. And you didn’t come home.”

She needs to get out.

She looks at the door and considers just leaving her papers and bag and getting the fuck out. Getting near anyone, even students, so that Cavanaugh would be forced to leave her alone. Or the door to open and another teacher to enter.

She was wearing her necklace and that brings her a bit of comfort but she can’t just press it because she’s uncomfortable. Of course, John would have no issue in killing Cavanaugh for making her nervous. But the last thing she needed was for John to come to the school in full assassin-mode.

No. She can handle Cavanaugh. She’s handled his advances for years. 

She doesn’t need anyone to come save her from this. 

“How long were you there?” And she is almost afraid of the answer.

“I waited all night for you to go home. You didn’t. It’s improper for an unmated Omega to be out without a chaperone.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Principal.” 

“Don’t you? I’ve made my intentions towards you clear. You will be my mate.”

“I've told you that I'm spoken for. My father has told you that I am spoken for.”

“And yet,” Cavanaugh leans in with a leer, “You spent all night out with an Alpha who didn’t mark you? Perhaps he’s not as taken with you as you seem to be with him.”

Helen feels herself flush with what must be anger. She feels hot all over. And scared. And frustrated and tired of having to deal with men, with Alphas, like Cavanaugh and Tarasov and all the others who have made her life a hell.

And she didn’t owe Cavanaugh an explanation but one still poured from her lips, “Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to you, Principal, but any Alpha seeking to control me will not be left happy.”

“Perhaps, Miss Kingston, you just haven’t had the right hand to coach you to where you need to be. Your father doesn’t seem to care about your well-being. Your so-called Alpha doesn’t seem to care about your reputation if he keeps you out all night and doesn’t even mark you as his.”

“Believe me, John has had every opportunity to mark me.” There is a bite in her words, “But he respects me enough to wait.”

“He  _ respects you _ ? You speak of respect when you just about admit that you have been intimate with an Alpha yet you do not bear his mark? Any Alpha worth his stock would have you marked and knocked up by now. The fact that he hasn’t tells me he does not care for you.”

“You don’t know shit!”

She grabs her papers and goes to stand and is hit with an immediate wave of dizziness. A hand reaches out and grasps her arm and yanks her back down. In her momentary headrush, she falls back to the chair, landing hard.

Helen blinks. Her vision is still there but there are stars and a general feeling of wooziness.

“Easy, Helen,” Cavanaugh tells her and there is something disgusting dripping from his tone.

Something isn’t right. 

Her hand reaches to her necklace immediately and she squeezes it twice, blinking frantically. “What… what did you do to me?”

“Just breathe, Omega.”

She stiffens at the phrase.  _ He  _ doesn’t get to call her that. Cavanaugh doesn’t get to address her like that.

Helen reaches for her forehead. She’s too hot, like a fever. Like the start of a heat.

She looks up at Cavanaugh and growls out, “What. Did. You. Do?”

“Protected what’s mine. Your father seems content to let you roam about with an Alpha who won’t mate you and social services will take weeks to come in. By then, maybe he’d wise up and mark what is already mine.”

“I’m not yours!”

Her heart is beating faster. The room is growing warmer. Her clothes are starting to itch.

Fuck.

She knows this feeling. This is onset. The stages before a heat kicks in. She should be weeks out, she is meticulous in tracking her heats. And it’s… it’s happening too fast. Heats often take a full day to set in. The feeling of warmth is gradual. It doesn’t just hit at once.

“What did you do?” Helen asks again, trying to remember what John was doing. Where he was going. How far away he was. When had he left?

Feelings and memories were blending together and she couldn’t remember how long she had been there.

“The coffee…” She says aloud and Cavanaugh runs a hand down her arm.

He’s an Alpha but… it’s wrong. 

She wrenches out of his grip and regrets the strength which she had used. The unnecessary display has her feeling weak. Pliable. Needy.

But the man trying to touch her is not her Alpha.

Marked or not, she belongs to John Wick.

And John Wick belongs to her.

“Just a little bit of aphrodisiac to jumpstart your heat. But now, you’ll bear my mark and not even your father will be able to keep me from you.” Cavanaugh reaches for her again and, despite the weakened state, Helen manages to get out of the chair and to the counter. She clings to it for support and tries to take note of what is happening. To keep a grip on reality. 

She’s at school. The teacher’s lounge. 

The school day hasn’t started but people are here.

Helen pushes her hair out of her face. She can’t go into the hall, not near students, if she has an incoming heat. But she can’t stay here, either.

Fuck.

Her body is starting to ache. The beautiful sweater that John had ordered for her is making her skin scream.

But no. 

She won’t take it off here,  _ especially _ not near Cavanaugh.

Helen swallows.

She needs a weapon. She needs something because John is coming but he isn’t  _ here _ . Not yet.

Nicky.

Nicky might be here.

She needs her phone but it’s in her bag and her bag is between the chair and Cavanaugh.

The principal stands and takes a step towards her. 

Helen stumbles back, holding onto the counter.

Teachers lounge.

It’s not exactly stacked with weapons. 

And she has never carried a knife at school.

Her head hurts.

Her body is tensing with need but spasms haven’t started, nor has the slick.

But it’s coming. It’s happening and it’s happening fast.

And she’s alone.

“It’s alright, Helen,” Cavanaugh tells her, and the bastard is smiling. “You’re safe here, with me.”

She was anything but. And she couldn’t call for help because she was an Omega in heat in a building filled with teenagers. Jesus fuck, what had Cavanaugh been thinking.

“Leave.” She spits out, “Get out of this room and  _ maybe _ I can stop my Alpha from ripping you limb from limb.”

“You have no mark; you have no Alpha. That’s what the law says.”

Cavanaugh is still advancing and she’s standing there, barely able to stand without the support of the counter.

She rips open the drawer, putting another small, pathetic barrier between them. Cavanaugh knocks it aside.

Helen lunges to the other side of the room, where another table was used for grading. 

But Cavanaugh is still coming and she can’t outrun him and there is nowhere to hide. 

There’s not much around. A few notebooks. A computer which she probably couldn’t lift even if she wasn’t on the precipice of heat. A handful of pens and a fucking pencil.

“You have nowhere to go, Helen. And soon, you will be mine.”

Like hell.

Helen grabs the pencil and, with the remaining strength she has, jams it hard into Cavanaugh’s mating gland and through his throat.

The principal staggers, eyes-widened in shock. 

Her heart is racing but it isn’t from what she has done. If anything, she is eerily calm having just stabbed Cavanaugh in the throat with a pencil.

He falls back and hits the floor, eyes closed.

She isn’t sure if he’s dead but she can barely support herself standing.

Helen does her best to maneuver back to the table. To her bag. She falls to her knees and digs out her phone.

Three missed calls from John.

Fuck.

She shakes, trying to remember her password and manages to hit the right numbers. John is coming and that gives her enormous comfort.

But Nicky is closer.

She finds his number and hits call.

It rings once before he picks up, “Morning, Cara mia--”

“Nicky.” She interrupts, feeling her body starting to curl up. “Teacher’s lounge.” She manages to say and drops the phone.

She should call John but she’s not sure she can manage to touch the correct buttons, to put that much attention into detail again.

Never, in her life, had Helen experienced anything like being shocked into heat. Her body feels as if it was on fire. Her heart pounds.

She tears at the sleeves of her sweater and squeezes her legs together. 

_ Breathe through it,  _ she tells herself.  _ You’ll be going through this misery a hundred times over this week. _

That only frustrates her more.

Biology was unfair to begin with but this was worse. Her heat wasn’t supposed to come until the end of the school year.

Her hips roll involuntarily.

This wasn’t good.

Fuck.

A tear streams out and a whimper slips from her mouth just as the door opens.

“Dios mio!” Nicky swears.

“The door.” She manages to say before a sob escapes her. “Fuck!”

Nicky slams the door closed and uses the lock on the door as Helen leans over towards the floor. 

“What happened?” Nicky asks, dropping down to where Helen lays on the floor. “Did he attack you?”

“He… he…” Helen takes a deep breath as her body  _ shakes _ , “drugged my coffee. Induced my heat.”

Her core aches and there is a feeling of being pricked in the womb and she bites her lip to keep from screaming out in pain.

“Fuck!” Nicky swears.

“Is… is he dead?” She manages to ask, wincing with every word.

Nicky jumps up and goes to check, examining the body. “Judging by the blood, you hit the main artery. He was dead in seconds.”

“ _ Good _ .” She snarls and she doesn’t give a flying fuck that Nicky looks at her in near shock. She doesn’t have time for this. Another wave of pain hits her and she grabs her lower stomach and swears again “Ah! Fuck!”

“Merde. Merde. Merde. We need to call John.”

Helen nods frantically and pushes her phone towards Nicky. 

Nicky fumbles with the phone and hangs up the call that she had left with him. He quickly works her phone and he puts it to his ear.

“Helen?” John’s voice is frantic, “What happened? Where are you?”

She can hear his voice and it makes her keen.  _ Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. _

“It’s Nicolo.” Nicky says, “She’s safe now but Cavanaugh got to her. He drugged her coffee with something and her heat is coming on fast.”

John growls low and there’s pure venom shooting from his mouth as he says,  _ “I’ll kill him. _ ”

“Too late.” Nicky glances down at Helen. The sweats have started and her body is coated in a thin layer of moisture. He kneels down and wipes her forehead with his hand, knowing better than to touch her with fabric. “Helen’s a step ahead of you.”

“Is she with you?”

“Yes. We’re locked in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Can she talk?”

Helen whimpers and Nicky grabs her hand, letting her squeeze it tightly.

“She’s deep in but she’s conscious. I’ll put you to her ear.”

The cold phone is pressed to the side of her head and John’s voice fills her mind.

“Hel?”

She chokes on a breath.

“I’m coming, baby. I’m almost there.”

“Alpha!” She keens and her nails dig into her palm. 

“Sweet Omega.” John lowers his voice, “You did so good. So good, baby. I’m so proud of you, Omega”

She feels her pussy clench at his voice and, fuck, she needs him. She needs him so badly.

And he keeps talking. Whispering to her that he’s coming. That’s he’s on his way. That he’s close by and she still hurts, she still feels pain everywhere, but his voice helps her to breathe. 

“I’m pulling into the school. Can you give me to Nicky, love?”

She whimpers but she pushes the phone back to Nicky. “Yeah?”

Helen closes her eyes, unable to focus without John whispering to her.

This isn’t right. Heats weren’t supposed to hit like this. It was too much, too fast. This was why it was never recommended to induce a heat, why drugs such as the one Cavanaugh had used were illegal.

She can hear Nicky talking but she can no longer make out the words of what he was saying. She’d never tried to interpret anything during a heat before.

She’d always been home, alone, in her apartment. With toys and supplies. And it  _ sucked _ but she knew how to deal with that.

She didn’t know how to deal with Nicky watching her thrash on the floor in pain. But she couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed either. There was too much physical aching to even consider the mental consequences.

And then Nicky moves from sight and she hears the door open and Helen whines as John’s angry scent pushes through the door.

There’s amber and pepper and the slight sandalwood of distress. Before she can turn her head, arms scoop around her and she is pulled to John’s chest.

Immediately, Helen lets out a sob of relief and gasps in his scent. 

“Oh, my beautiful Omega. Did so good. You did so good. Were so brave.” He places a kiss to her head and then she feels his face look up, “Do we know what he used?”

“Not a clue. But whatever it is, I’ve never seen anything act so quickly. She can’t have been here for more than half an hour and she’s going to hit the first wave any minute.”

“Fuck.” John swears, a hand gently massaging her neck, easing the tension with a thumb rubbing her mating gland. “You’re a school. Do you have any fail-safes in place for Omega’s presenting for the first time?”

“The nurse usually keeps sedatives in the office.”

“Get some. I don’t know if I can even get her to the car before this becomes unbearable.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

Helen feels John rise to his feet but he doesn’t loosen his grip. They move toward the door and Helen squirms in his arms, trying to move, to go from lying in his arms to being wrapped around his body. Just as she had been, hours ago.

“Not yet, baby,” John tells her and she whimpers again, rubbing her thighs together in discomfort. She can feel slick start to soak through the new panties and spill down her thighs. 

“Please, Alpha!” she begs him, “Please, I’ll be so good for you!”

John swears, “You’re already so good for me. My perfect Omega. Just need to wait a few more minutes. Can you do that for me?”

Helen bites her lip but nods into his shoulder, inhaling his scent until it filled her lungs.

Whispers fill her ears and John rocks her steadily against him. 

And then there’s a banging on the door and John opens it. Nicky rushes back in with a small black bag, “Full dose will buy you an hour.”

“I can get her to the Continental.”

“No!” Helen says and she shakes her head against his shoulder, “I wanna go home, Alpha.”

“That might be better.” Nicky says, “By car, that should only be twenty or so minutes.”

“No!” She says again, and looks up at John, “Our home.”

He presses a kiss to her head, “Our home, Omega. We’re going to give you something so you can sleep until we get there, okay?”

Helen nods frantically and Nicky approaches, “Take a deep breath, love.” He tells her and inserts the needle just in back of her mating gland. It stings but it barely registers next to the pain of not having John’s knot buried deep inside her.

She breathes out steadily as John says, “There’s no backdoor in here?”

“The door and the window. That’s it.”

“I can’t take her into the hall. The amount of unpresented teenage Alphas could cause a riot. Even sedated.”

“Window it is,” Nicky says and he hurries over to said window, cranking it open.

“The body…”

“I sent a text to Hasan while you were on the phone with her. He’s on his way to deal with the body.”

Helen feels her body slip from her mind as she’s jostled to another’s arms. She exhales and falls back into oblivion.


	9. Aftermath

There’s a soft sound of a motor when she feels herself come back to the present. Helen blinks awake, still noting the sharp smell of John. She turns her head to the side, to look at John, and she can’t help the small whine that escapes her as she catches sight of her Alpha.

John reaches over and puts a hand on her thigh and squeezes, “We’re almost home, baby. Just a few more minutes.”

Her hips roll involuntarily and she reaches for his hand, dragging it further up her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and guiding it into her ruined panties.

“Alpha, please!” She begs, grinding her pussy against his hand. 

Her Alpha swears and she feels the car pick up speed as John carefully rubs her pussy.

The air conditioning is blasting but she still feels on fire, rolling her hips into his hand, desperate for some kind of relief.

“You’re doing so well.” John tells her, and the hand on the steering wheel is white-knuckled as he weaves around a car going too damn slow. 

They’re almost home.

He pulls off onto the road that leads to their house and presses the gas down.

“So well, sweet Omega.”

Helen keens, thrusting forward against his fingers, leaning back into the passenger seat as she does. Her pussy clenches and she whimpers.

John pulls into the driveway and rushes towards the house, taking his hand away from her core long enough to hit the button to open the garage.

Helen doesn’t recognize the growl that escapes her as she reaches for his hand to try to tug it back.

John slams the breaks the moment they hit the garage and bursts out of the car. Shakily, Helen manages to hit the release on the seatbelt just as John gets to her door. He wrenches it open and scoops her up out of the car.

Helen rolls in his arms, managing to get her legs around his hips and she wraps the rest of her body around his torso, setting her mouth to his neck.

John rushes through the house and up the stairs but she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy licking and nipping at his gland, wondering what it would be like to bite it. If he would taste as good as he smelled.

She sucks it between her lips, rubbing her wet center on him, uncaring if she stained his suit with her slick.

And then John is kneeling, laying her in the nest she had re-created in his room-- their room just two days before. Thank god for small favors. 

Helen rolls her head around the pillows, stroking her hands up her torso. Her shirt feels too heavy and she fumbles with the buttons until John takes over, ripping it open and pushing it off her.

_ Yes _ , she thinks,  _ Alphas do have their uses _ .

John yanks her skirt and panties off in one go and tosses them carelessly to the side. Helen reaches for his belt and John hurries to remove his shirt.

“I had a plan.” John tells her, tossing his shirt. “When the time came, I was going to help you ease into your heat. I was going to take my time,” Helen pulls his belt loose and John kicks off his shoes. “I was going to make you come so many times before it even hit that you would be exhausted when your heat finally came.”

Helen felt her shoulders rolling into the nest as John chucked his pants off toward the bed and crawled on top of her.

“Alpha!” She moaned, spreading her legs and reaching up for him. Helen tangles her hand in his hair and brings his mouth down, forcing it to her neck. 

John suckles and nips at her gland and Helen’s hips lift off the ground, even with his weight on top of her. 

“Please, Alpha!’ 

“I’ve got you, love.” He promises, pushing himself up enough that he can easily flip her around to her hands and knees. “Three days,” John muses, his hands now trailing down her stomach and sides, “of your body craving mine. Three days of me inside you…” he leans closer to her to whisper in her ear as his hands landed on her hips, “I wonder if there will be any survivors.”

Helen whimpers and he nips at her ear.

“Are you ready for me, love? Shall I check?”

A hand dips down into her wetness and she feels herself open around two fingers. They turn inside her before she is left empty again.

She turns to look over her shoulder in time to see John bring his fingers to his own mouth. He licks at the shiny wetness and Helen closes her eyes, too overwhelmed to look at him as he contentedly cleans his fingers.

“Your heat tastes like honey.”

And god, she’s getting tired of begging as she moans, “please…”

“Sweet Omega.” He kisses her jaw. “I’m going to do everything to you. I’m going to lick and suck you, make you ride my face until you’re good and spent. And just when you think you can’t take anymore, I’m going to tie you to the bed and make you take more. Gonna fuck you till you’re raw and sore. Gonna fuck you in every room so this entire place smells like sex.”

Her breathing was growing heavy but he wasn’t done teasing her.

“You won’t be able to eat at our table without thinking about how good I feel inside you. You won’t be able to brush your hair by the mirror without thinking about how hard I fucked You while you held onto the sink. And I’m not going to stop until you feel empty without me.”

“Alpha!”

He huffs softly. She can feel his breath on her cheek. 

“Okay, love.” He presses another kiss to her jaw. “I’ll give you what you want.”

He moves back and she mourns the warmth of his body, if only for a moment. Because then he is pressing into her. With a sway of his hips, she feels him slip into her slick core.

“Uhhhh.” Helen moans, tilted her head back against his shoulder. 

John kisses her neck as he works up a rhythm. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, increasing his speed slightly.

The woozy feeling of her heat began to kick in. Every stroke was like she was floating, her blood seemed like it was on fire. 

John’s hands begin to travel up her body, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. Every squeeze makes her feel as if she might explode and Helen buries her face into the edge of the nest.

Just that sweet pressure is enough to make her convulse around him. “Need your knot. Alpha, please.” she begs, reaching down to move John’s hand up to her chest.

She squeezes his hand with hers, forcing his fingers to dig into her swollen breasts. 

John groans behind her and Helen gasps as she feels him start to grow inside her. His cock is thickening and forming the knot that her body so desperately craves. John rocks into her as it builds and a hand reaches down from her breasts, trailing her stomach, and stops at her clit.

Helen jumps at the contact and John whispers to her, “Look at you. Taking my knot so well.”

She tries to respond but words no longer can form in her mind. All that comes out is a desperate moan, a needy whimper as John continues to rock against her.

Again, he’s talking to her, whispering praises in her ears. But much like the words she seeks to tell him, she can’t force herself to concentrate hard enough to actually listen to what he’s saying.

Normally, Helen hates the way her brain dissolves like cotton candy whenever her heat comes around but she can’t bring herself to care. Not when John feels so fucking good, his knot keeping him locked around her, forcing his thrusts to become shallow.

She’s never felt so full in all her life.

John rocks his palm against her clit and she cries out. It feels so  _ good _ but something is missing. Something she needs and she tries to clear her mind of the fog long enough to tell him, “Mark me, Alpha.”

John hisses in her ear.

“Please, Alpha, bite me.”

He speeds the movement of his palm as he kisses her neck. “Come for me, Omega.” 

John rubs her clit just right and she floods around him, a shriek leaving her body and turning into a scream as John’s teeth sinks into her throat. Her lips are quaking, stuttering wordlessly as she feels John start to come inside of her.

She clenches around his knot, breathing heavily as she revels in the feral way that John is marking her neck. He bites down again, still rubbing his palm against her clit and her head leans back against him as she feels that delightful pressure inside of her burst.

Her head feels light and soon, the only thing keeping her from falling is John’s grip on her. He rises to his knees, pulling her along with him, still reamed with his cock. His teeth still tearing apart her mating gland.

His arms are wrapped around her and Helen feels the clouds start to part as she blinks back into reality. A long breath exhales and she looks back to John, eyes still lidded.

John moves his hand from her chest to her head, turning her towards him. He kisses her temple before carefully lowering them back to the nest. 

His knot is still swollen inside her and he does his best to maneuver her to a position where he can see her face, propping slightly above her.

“Are you okay?” John asks, delicately touching her face.

Helen opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out.

She had no regrets about John, about having him take her on her heat and marking her for the world to see but… fuck.

This was not her choice. Cavanaugh had drugged her; poisoned her. Had taken away her choices, her dignity.

And John, sweet John, is asking if she’s okay and she doesn’t know how to fucking respond to that.

"I killed Cavanaugh.”

"You saved yourself, sweetheart. You did what you had to do.”

“I killed him at the school.” Anger has turned quickly to fear. “I killed him in a public place. People are going to find the body and know that I killed him. I’m going to be found out and…”

John puts two fingers against her new mark and a wave of calm rushes over her. 

“The body should already have been taken care of.” John tells her, “Nicky called Hasani to take care of it.”

“It’s at the school, John!”

“And Hasani is good at what he does. Trust me, no one is going to know what happened to Cavanaugh. Or that you were involved.”

“But we both disappeared from the school.”

“Nicky will take care of it. He’ll tell them whatever he needs to about Cavanaugh and the truth about you. Your heat came on early so you called your Alpha to come pick you up. No one will know the events are connected.”

Helen nods and a sigh escapes her. “Fuck…”

John pushes her hair back behind her ear. “You did so well, sweetheart. In more ways than one.”

She tucks her head against John’s shoulder and breathes in his scent. 

“How long between waves?” John asks.

“Four hours at onset. Fifteen minutes at peak.” Helen shakes her head, “But that’s when it sets in naturally. With whatever drugs he gave me, it could be less. I’ve never had a heat hit like that before.”

“When the worst of it has passed, I want to call a doctor. Someone I know from work, just to check on you. Make sure no lasting damage was caused.”

She nods in agreement. “Okay.”

She wonders if her voice sounds as small as she feels.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She didn’t need candles or wine or crazy preparations but she was supposed to have time. Some warning to give her time to get ready.

Cavanaugh had taken that from her.

And she had taken his life.

She shivers and John holds her tighter.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” John murmurs.

Helen glances up at him. “I don’t even want to imagine what it would have been like to get through that without you.” 

That was true. For years, she had gotten through heats with help from toys but had left every wave feeling like she wanted to die. And that wave was the most intense thing she had ever experienced but her body felt more relaxed than it had any right to, considering the trauma it had undergone in the span of a few hours.

“Thank you for sedating me.”

John lets out a small laugh, “Never thought I’d hear those words.”

“Never thought I’d need to be sedated to make it an hour in a car.” She shakes her head incredulously. “Un-fucking-real.”

“I know, baby.” John says, “Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

“I was stupid.” She replies, glancing up at him. “He was in the teacher’s lounge when I got there. Every instinct I had told me to leave, to go to my classroom but I told myself I was being irrational. He was making himself a coffee when I went in and offered me one. I accepted. I shouldn’t have but…”

“You couldn’t have predicted he would do that. Especially at school, the risk he took to himself was monumental.”

“He wanted to mate me before you could.” She touches the spot where John had marked her and shudders, “The details… are hazy. I don’t even remember calling you.”

“You set off the SOS.” His hand reaches to the chain that hangs between her breasts.

“Yes.” She vaguely remembers the dizziness and Cavanaugh looking smug.

“Nicky was the one to actually call me.” He smirks, almost to himself, “Whoever would have thought that I’d owe a debt to a D’Antonio?”

“Technically, he’s a Kareen.”

“Never owed a Kareen, either.” John says, “But I’ll forever be grateful for them and what they did today.”

Helen buries her head in his neck and closes her eyes. She was also grateful for what they had done for her but the humiliation still burned in the pit of her stomach. That Nicky had seen her like that… even having John see her like that was horrible.

The saving grace was that none of her students had seen her. 

“I wish I could kill him again.” She murmurs.

“Me too.” John says and she feels a twitch of his lips. “The pencil was a nice touch.”

She snorts, “It was all I could find.”

“I wish I could put into words how proud I am of you.” His arm tightens around her middle. “It kills me that I wasn’t there to protect you when you needed it, but my god, am I proud of you.”

“I shouldn’t have taken the coffee. I should have listened to my instincts and…”

Her head is tilted up, forcing her to look at John, “Hey, this is not your fault. Not in any way.”

“ _ You _ would have listened to your instincts.”

“I’m a paranoid bastard. Hels, you were literally poisoned and you kept your head. You saved yourself and got help. You did perfectly.”

She nods.

It really could have been worse, she thinks. Had she not acted quickly…

The idea of being forcibly mated to Cavanaugh had her nauseous and utterly disgusted. She tries not to linger too much on the possibility. That was something to process when her brain wasn’t scrambled.

She feels John start to deflate inside of her and tries not to mourn the loss. She’ll have his knot again soon enough.

John slips out of her and he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to make a call,” he says, ““See if Louis can run and pick up some protein bars and gatorade.”

He starts to sit up but her arm shoots out before she can even recognize what she is doing.

Her breathing has picked up, her heart rate spiking.

John quickly pulls her onto his lap, rubbing his thumb over her mark. “I’m sorry, love.” He whispers, an arm wrapped around her in a hug, “I should have thought…”

Helen shakes her head, “No, I’m sorry. I’m still a little on edge.”

“Of course you are.” John tightens his grip and rolls to a kneeling position and then to his feet, carrying her with him. “Between waves or not, you’re still in heat. I promise I won’t leave you.”

“You can put me down. I’m sorry, I just got a little panicky.”

“I don’t want to put you down.” He says, reaching for his pants. He grabs the cell phone from his pocket and sits down on the bed, holding Helen close to him.

“Really, John, it’s okay.” She laughs softly as she slips off his lap and goes to find John’s bathrobe. It reaches the floor when she drapes it over her shoulders but she doesn’t mind. It smells like him and it’s soft.

“Is there anything else you can think you’ll need?” John calls.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good.” She typically had protein bars and some kind of off-brand beverage with electrolytes to keep her hydrated and able to keep going. 

Hell, she had never had a heat where she had the privilege of soft, new blankets and actual nesting materials. Or a cock that wasn’t synthetic and battery-operated. 

Had this happened two weeks later, she would have been thrilled. As it were, it still was better than all her past heats. 

Helen tilts her head, looking in the mirror. John's teeth had broken the skin around her mating gland, turning the base of her neck a delicate, soft purple. She is marked; something she never expected to see.

If someone had asked her, even a week ago, if she would ever see such a mark on herself, she would have insisted no.

She gently touches it, noting the slight raised skin. 

Mated.

It seemed unreal. 

All in all, it wasn’t that fast. She knew plenty of Omega/Alpha couples who had mated after a matter of hours. The idea of a three week courtship, while initially her best move when playing a complex game of chess with John Wick, was considered to be excessive. But John had agreed, because that was who he was.

But she had been alone for so long, anything less was too much.

Yet here she stood, not even a week later, mated, marked and claimed.

She swallows, idly hearing John list off things to Louis. 

His voice calms her from the rush of hormones flowing through her.

She wonders if every heat with an Alpha is like this or if it’s just a side effect from whatever Cavanaugh had slipped her.

Even now, she was shaky. Her hands couldn’t seem to still and, while the rush of the heat had passed, her heart was still hammering away in her chest. Her muscles felt tense. 

Helen puts her hands out on the sink, bracing herself while she tries to control her breathing.

Four seconds, breathe in. Four seconds, hold. Four seconds, breathe out.

She repeats it four times but her heart is still pounding. She still feels uneasy.

On edge. 

She is mated but it isn’t that simple. 

She is mated because Cavanaugh put her into this position. 

And yes, she wanted to mate John. And she wasn’t upset that he had bitten her when she had asked him to but it should have been a conversation. Not a desperate moment where she felt herself spiraling out of control.

John had marked her.

But she hadn’t marked him.

Her skin feels almost like it’s crawling, with fear and frustration and a thousand other things that a part of her knew were irrational. So why did she still feel like she was losing her mind over the fact that she hadn’t marked John?

He would let her, wouldn’t he?

He loved her.

She knew he did.

Right?

Fuck, why was she doubting things that she knew to be true this morning?

Helen puts her hand to her forehead, as if it would ease the tension. It doesn’t. Her breathing is picking up again and this, she knows, isn’t normal. This isn’t the typical let down that follows a heat.

She doesn’t notice John until his arms are already wrapped around her.

He pulls her to his chest and she hears words falling from his mouth but they don’t fully register in her mind.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m here. Deep breaths, baby.”

Deep breaths? Is she not breathing?

She feels a little unstable. Is she still on her feet?

She can’t quite tell.

John puts a hand on her chin and forces her to look up at him and he breathes hard, exaggerating each breath for her to follow as his fingers run circles on her neck.

“Hey,” John says softly, “Are you here with me?”

Fuck. Helen stutters on an inhale but nods.

“I’m so sorry--”

“I walked away.” Helen shakes her head, “And it’s not the heat. At least, I don’t think so.”

“The drugs?” John asks.

“Yeah.” She can feel the tension holding her body hostage, even though her mind has cleared from the onset of panic.

“Talk to me.” John whispers, pushing her hair back from her face. 

Again, she shakes her head, “Just got overwhelmed. I still feel… I don’t know. Paranoid?”

“You were drugged, against your will. I wanted to wait until your heat had pushed through but maybe I should call the doctor now.”

She didn’t want to see the doctor, or  _ anyone _ , while she was under the influence of her heat but he might be right.

John made a call to a doctor and another to Hasani, calling in a favor for the other assassin to raid Cavanaugh’s office to figure out what the hell he had used on Helen.

“It’s called Caloremite. It’s a cheaper substitute for what doctor’s use to induce heats in Omega’s going through a dry spell.”

John had looked it up while they waited for the doctor to arrive and with every word he read, he seemed to get angrier.

It was no longer on the market in the United States, having been banned for severe side effects.

_ Loss of control.  _

_ Dizziness. _

_ Insomnia.  _

_ Paranoia _ .

In several instances, suicidal ideation.

“I wanted to kill him before, but now…” John muttered, before looking over at her, “Are you feeling any of those?”

“The first is inevitable. And… I think the paranoia.”

“Oh?”

Helen shrugs, “A bit. I don’t know.”

“Hels.”

“It’s stupid.” She admits, “I just, I keep having these moments of self-doubt and fear that you’re going to change your mind.”

“Change my mind about what?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“I-- about me.”

“What about you?”

She flushes, “That, I don’t know, that you wouldn’t want me anymore.” He opens his mouth to protest but she holds up a hand, “And I know,  _ I know _ , that it is stupid and irrational but I keep thinking that maybe I’m not worth all this trouble. Or that, maybe, you just wanted me because I was a challenge and now that you’ve marked me, you could just walk away and…”

“ _ No _ .” There is authority in that tone and it makes her tense up again, but then his voice softens, “Sweetheart…”

“I know it’s stupid.”

“You’re, for lack of a better term, under the influence. There’s nothing stupid about the paranoia this is causing you. Even if those thoughts are dead wrong.” He tilts her face up again, “You are the only thing in my life that I give a damn about, Hels. You are  _ everything _ to me.”

She nods, rubbing her face against his hand. “Yeah. Yeah.” She repeats, “I know that. Rationally.”

“But irrationally, it’s hard.” John’s free hand grips the mattress, squeezing hard. “I’m so proud of you for killing him, but I think I will always be a little pissed that it wasn’t me to end his life.”

Helen snorts and John kisses her head, adoringly.

“Yeah. And I know that, eventually, this bullshit is going to wear off. I just hate feeling like this.”

“What can I do? How can I make this better?” There’s a desperation in his tone, “I’ll do anything, Helen.”

And she is overwhelmed by just how much she adores this man. Her mate. Her partner.

Her eyes glance, of their own accord, to his neck. Possessively.

She doesn’t say anything and almost hopes that he doesn’t notice where her desires directed her. But he does.

John brings his face to hers, kissing her softly. He backs her up, back to the nest and he carefully lowers them both to the ground, with John under her.

Wordlessly, John lifts his chin, baring his neck.

Helen swallows at the silent offering. “Are you sure?”

Because, legally, all that mattered was the Alpha’s mark on the Omega. An Omega claiming back their Alpha was a divisive topic. 

Half the population seemed to agree that an Omega claiming their Alpha was a sign of growing equality, bridging the gap to allow Omega’s rights of existence. Others, more traditionalists, found it to be a display of weakness in the Alpha to allow themselves to be marked as such.

While John certainly believed in Omega’s rights, he worked in a world that valued power and position. 

Hasani wore no mark and he adored Nicky to death.

But here was John, the Alpha of Alphas, ready to take her mark.

“I claimed you that first day.” John says softly, “But I was yours the moment you walked into that room.”

She wastes no time, launching herself into him, her mouth automatically finding the sensitive gland.

She kisses it, open-mouthed. Licking and sucking at his neck as John pushes his bathrobe off her shoulders and to the side.

She straddles him, rocking her body into his.

His cock hardens underneath her weight as she sucks at his neck and she reaches between them. He hisses in pleasure as she wraps her hand around his length, gently dragging her hand up and down until he is like rock under her fingers.

She is still soaked with slick, even if the heat has died down, and she guides him to her warm opening. Easily, she slips him back inside her and descends her hips into his until they are met at the center.

Helen watches as John’s fists turn white at the knuckles as he struggles to keep control of himself, to let her take charge of this moment.

She rides him, rolling her hips against his as she continues to tease his neck until he is a swearing, groaning mess.

“Fuck, Hels!” He swears, “Not going to last if you keep--! Fuck!” 

Helen squeezes around him, but thinks the same thought. She is still so sensitive from the first round of heat, she already feels like she might come undone at any moment. 

She bounces on him, hands roaming his open chest, feeling his hard body quake with need. Helen waits, until John is on edge, before she bites down on his neck, piercing the gland with her teeth. She sucks at the spot, grazing it along her mouth, doing everything in her power to enlarge the mark that will let the world know that John Wick is not only taken, but he is  _ hers _ .

He lets out the closest thing to a whine that she has ever heard from John as her teeth graze at the tender spot before she feels his cum coating her insides. The sensation is enough to make her come undone around him, her pussy clenching around him, milking him dry as she licks at his neck.

Her Alpha.

As she lets up, moving her mouth from his neck, John grabs her by her hair and forces her head back up to his, kissing her hard. Bruising her lips deliciously.

She has claimed him, entirely, and it gives her a dark, almost twisted pleasure that John Wick has been marked as  _ hers.  _ He will never know another the way he does her.

Her arms twist around him and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, just to the right of where she had bitten him.

She breathes in his heavy scent as John strokes her head. His cock remains buried inside of her even as it softens.

They remain like that, entirely entwined, until the doorbell rings.

“Doc.” John says, untangling them from one another. He manages to get a grip on his Omega and lifts her with him as he stands and carries her to the bed. He quickly finds himself a pair of sweatpants before disappearing into their closet to find Helen something light and airy to wear. 

The tank top and cotton shorts he chooses are thin but the fabric still scratches at her skin.

“Do you want me to bring him up here or would you like to go downstairs to meet with him?”

“Down.” Helen says, glancing at the state of their bedroom. The nest in a frenzy, their clothes tossed all about. The distinct scent of sex that permiated the air.

She tries to walk but after fifteen steps, Helen finds herself braced against the wall, the dizziness hitting her again.

The Doctor is a small, elderly Asian man with kind eyes. He greets John with familiarity that Helen worries is from John’s many scars.

“Were you able to find out what it was she was drugged with?” The Doctor asks John.

“Caloremite was written on the bottle, according to Nicolo D’Antonio, but it was written by hand. No actual label..”

The Doctor hums, “Potent stuff. I don’t suppose you know when it was made?”

John shakes his head, “No.”

Doc looks over to Helen, “I know it may be hard to remember, but what can you tell me about the immediate effects?”

She’s embarrassed with how little she can recall but she tries her best. “I think I started to feel a bit warm, but I thought it was anger. I honestly didn’t realize anything was off until I tried to stand up and was hit by a wave of vertigo.”

“That was one of the main complaints with the initial release of the drug.” The Doctor tells her, “Many found that it induced heat almost too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“During and before heats, your body is adjusting. It’s preparing to be able to bear children so your hormones change. Rates of estrogen and progesterone increase. It’s the reasons so many Omega’s suffer from sickness early in pregnancies, as the hormonal levels continue to increase. Under the influence of Caloremite, they increase much faster. Almost flooding the body. Normally, this happens over a span of a week before heat even hits, letting your body naturally get used to it. Without that time, however, your body is suffering from a dramatic increase. That’s what causes the dizziness. In some cases, it can cause insomnia, nausea, paranoia…” The Doctor drones on but Helen suddenly feels lightheaded. And it wasn’t from moving.

Somehow, in the panic of being drugged and the paranoia of the aftermath, the most obvious thing of all had slipped her mind.

Her heat was the only time that she could get pregnant. 

And they hadn’t used protection.

For a moment, she is frozen. Then she looks at John. 

He looks shell-shocked and it's enough to almost make her laugh; knowing that he has come to the same conclusion that she has.

He blinks and looks at her, swallowing as he does.

“I didn’t even think…” He says softly.

She shakes her head, “It all happened so quickly.”

“I’m sorry?” Doc asks, looking between them.

“Uh,” Helen tucks her hair back, “We weren’t expecting my heat.”

“I gathered that.”

“So, we weren’t,” she clears her throat. He is, after all, a doctor. “We weren’t prepared. We didn’t use protection.”

“Ah.” The Doctor says, “Yes. Well, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway, even if you had used some form of protection. Caloremite was once used for increasing fertility. If you’ve already…” the Doc clears his throat, “consummated, then it’s likely that you may have already conceived.”

A thousand thoughts flew through Helen’s head, the first of which being  _ so much for time together _ . 

She had wanted more time with John before kids came into the picture but it seemed that was thought long gone.

Fuck.

Helen glances over at John.

He hadn’t moved since the Doc started explaining.

“I think you broke him.” Helen tells the Doctor, snapping her fingers in front of John’s face.

He blinks.

“There you are.” She says.

“Do you need a tranquilizer, Mister Wick?” The Doctor asks and Helen nearly loses it.

“No.” John says, “Sorry.”

“I understand this entire situation came as a bit of a shock.” He looks at Helen, “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still functioning at this level of awareness given the potency of Caloremite. There is a reason it was taken off the market.”

“You mentioned trying to figure out when it was made. Would that have anything to do with the strength of it?” Helen asks.

“Yes. Typically, most drugs expire after a year or so. They lose their strength and are not advised to be taken after that time. And Caloremite hasn’t been on the market in the United States in at least five years. So either your attacker bought it outside of the US or he gave you a dose of an older drug.”

“If it were an older drug,” Helen tries to piece it all together in her mind, “Would the fertility still be increased?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not an expert in this kind of medication or Omega health. I couldn’t say anything for sure, but your fertility will already be increased just from having your heat induced. And I’m reluctant to give you any hormonal-based prophylactic for the remainder without knowing, for sure, more information about the drug you were given.”

“It could harm her?” John asks sharply.

“I don’t know enough to be sure.” The Doctor says, “And, right now, we’re operating under the assumption that the drug Helen was given was pure Caloremite. It’s very possible that it could have been mixed with any number of other drugs, especially if there was no label or prescription.”

John looks at her, “I’m not taking any risks when it comes to your health.”

“Agreed.” She looks back to the Doctor. “Would there be a way to test if it was laced with anything?”

“I would like to take a blood test from you. I can drop the test off at the labs on my way back to the Continental and put a rush on the results. Unfortunately, there are many things we can’t screen for.”

John nods and the Doctor opens his medical bag, preparing a blood kit.

“Aside from the dizziness, have you experienced any other symptoms not typically associated with heat?” Doc asks as he wraps a rub strap around Helen’s bicep.

“Some paranoia.” She admits, “But nothing else. At least, not yet.”

He nods, “Hopefully, that will be it. If you do experience anything, I want you to make sure Mister Wick calls me.”

“Okay.”

“Make a fist, now.”

Helen does and ignores the sharp instant of pain as the needle sinks into her skin.

John squeezes her other hand and, she wonders, for a moment if this is harder for him than it is for her.

Doc waits as a vial fills up with blood.

“Keep her hydrated.” The Doc tells Wick, “And well-fed. Even once the heat passes, she may be weak for a few days. I’m hoping to know more once we get the results back.”

“I will.” John tells him.

When the vial is full, the Doc packs up. Offering goodbyes and pleasantries, and a promise to rush the results of her tests.

John walks him to the door and Helen curls her legs underneath her, leaning back into the arm of the couch. A hand absently goes to her belly.

Mixed feelings fly through her.

The white-hot rage, directed at Cavanaugh. The fear that had she not killed him, he would have managed to take her, forcibly mark her, and impregnate her. The thought made her want to vomit.

There was fear that, despite everything, John would panic if she were pregnant. They hadn’t planned for this. They wouldn’t have planned for this. Not yet.

Not for a long time.

But that decision now felt out of their hands.

And if she wasn’t already pregnant, there was a possibility that she soon would be. She was still at day one of her heat. And hormonal protection was the only kind that worked against an Alpha and she couldn’t risk using it with whatever cocktail of drugs was still running through her system.

“He’s gone.” John says, settling next to her on the couch. 

She hadn’t even heard him come back in.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

Helen shakes her head.

“Something small?” He prompts. “Please?”

The corner of her mouth tips, “Okay.”

“What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

At her lackluster response, John moves closer to her. “Talk to me.” He whispers.

“We’re in over our heads.”

He nods, “Probably. But I always work best when I’m in over my head.”

Again, she cracks a smile, looking over at him. “I’m scared, John.”

“Me too.” He admits. 

“There’s just so much uncertainty. I could be on any sort of cocktail of drugs right now. I could be pregnant right now. We don’t know how long this poison is going to last and…” She stops, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

“I know.” John places his hand over hers, “But whatever happens, whatever comes, we’re going to face it. Together.”


	10. An Impossible Task

Her heat lasted for a full week but she took off a few extra days to be sure.

The paranoia took a few days to fully settle and the dizziness lasted even longer. The Caloremite had done a number on her and the last thing she wanted was to risk a relapse at work. And John was more than happy to keep her at home, in bed or the nest, for as long as he could.

They’d used the extra time to finish moving Helen in. It hadn’t taken long, between John, Marcus, Hasani, and Nicky. They had managed to pack her things in a matter of hours and what she didn’t need, mostly the furniture and old things that had once belonged to her father, were donated.

He pouted when she went back to work but, by then, there were only a few weeks left of school. 

Summer was fast approaching and John had excitedly started planning trips for them to take. 

John had rented a house in Greece and it was to be their homebase for several weeks, while he took her around to Europe and North Africa. 

Helen was convinced John was far more excited than she was, even though she’d never left the country before, but she didn’t mind. He was practically bouncing when he dropped her off for the last day of school. 

“I’ll see you at three.” Helen told him, sleepily nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

She’d given up coffee after the incident. For more reasons than one. Doc’s words had shaken both of them to the core.

John barely let Helen walk until Helen insisted upon calling Doc back up to have a serious talk with John about what it would mean if she were actually pregnant. She still could walk. She could still carry things, although heavy lifting should be kept at a minimum.

Helen had no problem with that seeing as she already had John do most of the heavy lifting.

The first few weeks were hard. The first time Helen was sick after breakfast, it all went down hill.

John had rushed out to buy a test. Finding a variety, he purchased eleven different tests.

Helen called it excessive but humored him.

Eleven little plus signs over the course of a day.

Another blood test from Doc and it was confirmed.

Helen was pregnant.

“Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning out your classroom?”

“It’s mostly done, anyway.” She says with a shake of her head, “And between my students and Nicky, I imagine I’ll be okay.”

It still surprised John that he was actually good friends with a D’Antonio. There was no espionage involved or any sort of Underworld bullshit. They were actually friends and both Nicolo and John took a bit of pleasure in knowing that, when Santino found out, he would be pissed. 

Small victories, as Nicky put it.

“You’re absolutely sur--”

“Stop worrying.” Helen lifts her head from his shoulder and gives him a look, even as she smiles.

John nods, although they both know he will  _ never  _ stop worrying.

Helen squeezes his thigh. “I’ll see you at three.”

How did seven hours away from her turn into a lifetime?

He leans over and kisses her, softly. Her hand comes up and she places a finger to his mark, gently rubbing it. Calming him.

“Miss you already.” She tells him, and slides out of the car. “Love you!”

“I love you too.” He says and the car door closes.

It crosses his mind, briefly, that their three weeks would have been up by now. That her heat would be coming at any time.

In so many ways, he wishes it had been different. He wishes he could have stopped Cavanaugh. That he had taken the threat from the Principal more seriously and had just killed him off in the beginning like he wanted to.

And while he wished he could have changed so many things about how things happened, he can’t deny the thrill that comes from seeing her mark or catching a glimpse of his own in the mirror.

He’d taken shit for it but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Winston had regarded it with a small hint of distaste but made no comment. Marcus had teased John that he always knew, deep down, that he was a bitch.

Even Hasani had seemed confused as to why John wore his mark so proudly.

“My father would literally have me killed if I ever let Nicky do that to me.” He had commented as they moved they carried Helen’s couch down the two flights of stairs. “I’m not saying I disapprove by any means, but, you have to know it won’t go over well in our world.”

John had merely inclined his head, “ _ Helen _ is my world.”

And that was what everyone else didn’t seem to get. The Underworld prided itself on certain rules and orders and a degree of civilization that never quite fit for a bunch of assassins and spies and mob bosses. In the years that John had been a part of that, he had never once truly understood the politics. The lies. The betrayal.

The constant watching of your back because your friend, who you just had lunch with, might have dropped arsenic in your drink when you weren’t looking.

He never  _ liked _ that world. But he fit in there far better than he had anywhere else. 

The Underground didn't pretend that good and evil were a thing. It didn’t fall victim to a rhetoric of black and white thinking and of absolutes. It was a world built upon shades of grey. But even in those shades of grey, there was a rigidity of _we will allow this, but we will not allow that_ _and we will never explain our reasons._

And the real world… well, it wasn’t perfect. That was the world that had forced his beautiful Omega to lock herself away. The same world that rejected basic human decency in favor of cycling economics. 

They had a foot in each, but neither was meant for them.

The Underworld had raised him; had broken him and built him back up. It had made him strong and capable and allowed a Romani orphan to become one of the most successful and feared men ever to walk the Earth.

But it was time to leave. 

It was time to get out.

He went to the Continental first, heading straight to Winston’s office. The older man was found at his desk, drinking brandy with his toast and reading through some sort of log when John came in.

“Jonathan.” The Manager says, closing the text, “To what do I owe the surprise?”

John wonders if he would ever be in the office again as he walks down the stairs and over to the desk. He sits in one of the chairs.

“I wanted to talk to you first. Before word inevitably breaks out.”

“Oh?” Winston sits back in his seat, raising a brow.

“I’m getting out.”

He blinks, “Getting out of what, Jonathan?”

“All this. I’m leaving the Underworld.”

Winston is visibly taken aback, again blinking and leaning forward, “You don’t  _ leave _ the Underworld.”

“I’m going to. I’ve already fulfilled all the markers I’ve ever given. I’ve completed all the contracts assigned to me and I’m not taking any more.”

“And your independent contracts? With the Camorra? With Tarasov?”

“I met with the entire D’Antonio family last night. My contract is closed.”

“And Tarasov?”

John shrugs, “I’m meeting with him next.”

Winston continues to rapidly blink, trying to place it all together. “I don’t understand.”

For John, it’s so simple.

Because the life that always felt out of reach is suddenly close at hand. Because he had something to live for after years of having  _ nothing _ . Because John didn’t want to be covered in blood when he picked up his crying child.

“Helen’s pregnant.”

“Congratulations.” Winston says, “But that doesn’t mean you have to leave the fold. Plenty of assassins become fathers--”

“I don’t want to be in this life anymore.” John says, cutting him off. “Even if she weren’t, I would have come to the same decision. It just expedited it. I want to have time with my Omega before our baby comes. And I want to know, without a doubt, that I will be there for my child. I’m grateful for what this world has provided me but I’m done.”

“You’re serious.” Winston breathes, “Jonathan, you can’t just leave the fold.”

“Why not? Because no one ever has?”

“Regardless of whether or not you’re actively killing, you will always be a target.”

John shrugs a shoulder, “Anyone stupid enough to come after me will get what’s coming to them. And regardless of whether or not I’m killing, my claim on Helen still stands. She’ll be protected, our children grandfathered in.”

“Until they turn eighteen and are unleashed onto the world with no training. The facilities that we have here--”

“Are wonderful.” John interrupts again, “But I would prefer to train my children on my own. I’ve thought this through, Winston. Helen and I have discussed it. I won’t be changing my mind.”

They sit in silence and Winston downs what is left in his glass of brandy. He shakes his head, incredulously, “Why?”

“I have never been a good man. But I would like to be a good father. A good husband. I think this is the first step.”

“What will you do?”

And John smiles, softly. It’s alarming for Winston to witness. “I’ll retire. Helen wants to keep teaching. She’s actually applied for the position of principal at her school.”

“There’s never been an Omega principal in New York.”

“She would be the first. If she gets it. Which she will.”

John wasn’t afraid to pull every string he had with the school board to vote her in. And Helen was more than willing to let John do his thing. When he had mentioned it, she had shrugged and said, “It’s rigged, anyway. May as well use what I have to my favor.”

“Helen will be the principal.” John says, “And I’ll be a stay-at-home dad.”

At which point, Winston stands up and walks over to the decanter. He doesn’t bother to pour himself another glass, lifting the lid and drinking it straight from the bottle.

When it is empty, Winston looks back. “You are the most efficient assassin I have ever met and you’re about to walk away to become a  _ house husband _ ?”

John nods, “I am.”

“Changing diapers and cleaning the house?”

“And driving the kids to and from school.” John finishes.

“Am I dreaming?” Winston wonders aloud and John snorts.

“No. You’re not. I don’t expect you, or anyone, to understand. But I’ve spent enough time around death.”

“Jonathan, I  _ adore _ your Omega but this…”

“This isn’t Helen’s idea.” John interrupts, “It’s mine. And Helen could care less if I leave the Underworld or if I stay.”

At the look of utter defeat on Winston’s face, John takes pity on him. “We’re still in the area. Maybe one day, I’ll come back. If there’s an impossible contract, maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’re really leaving.” Winston says, shaking his head. “I’m truly not sure what to say.”

John stands and walks over to the Manager, offering a hand.

Winston takes it.

“I know you don’t understand my decision,” John says, “I know a lot of people are going to have a lot to say when they hear what I’m doing.”

Winston makes a face because  _ that _ is true. By nightfall, the entire Continental will be abuzz about John Wick’s decision to leave the fold.

“But thank you, for everything. Your guidance has helped me through some difficult times.”

“Of course.” Winston says, and finds himself swallowing, “You are always welcome back at the Continental. And Helen, of course.”

“Thank you.” John repeats, “Give my best to Charon.”

And he leaves.

John Wick walks back down through the lobby, wondering if he’ll ever take Winston up on the offer. Or if this is the last time that he will pass through the halls of the Continental. Bittersweet. 

This hotel has been a safe haven for him for decades.

But now, he has something so much better.

He ignores the stares, as he always does, and steps back onto the street. The valet excuses himself to get John’s car and John lets out a breath.

And he doesn’t look back.

…

John hasn’t been to Tarasov’s office since that fateful day, nearly a month ago, when a little Omega had forced her way into the compound to scream at Viggo Tarasov.

The memory brings a smile to his face as he knocks once on Tarasov’s office door and enters.

Tarasov looks up at him in surprise, a flash of fear in his eyes, making John nearly roll his own.

“Rasslab’tes.”  _ Relax. _ John tells him, standing before the desk. There is a bottle of vodka and an assortment of glasses. John flips the glasses upright and pours two drinks.

He pushes one towards Tarasov and sits down with his own.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Tarasov asks.

“I want my contract dissolved. I’ll forfeit the remainder of my money and pay you back for this half of the year.”

If Winston was shocked, Tarasov is confused.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m leaving.” John says, simply. “The fold, the Underworld. I’m leaving.”

“No, no, you’re on retainer.”

“I  _ was _ . I’m forfeiting the rest of the money in exchange for the dissolution of my contract.”

“You signed that contract, in front of the High Table. In front of witnesses. Until that contract is complete, you are mine to use and--”

“I signed that contract with your Uncle. I am more than willing to go above your head for this, Viggo, but I’m offering you the chance, right now, to part with me on peaceful terms.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Viggo asks, leaning forward.

“I’m retiring.”

Viggo barks out a laugh. “Retiring? There is no retiring.”

John downs his shot before carefully slamming the crystal back to the desk, face down.

“I’m retiring, Viggo.” John repeats, “And that means, one way, or another, I’m leaving. Now,” John leans forward, “After that stunt you tried to pull with my Omega at the Continental, you’ve been very fortunate that I haven’t pursued any course of revenge. Of course, I suppose it was revenge enough, being threatened at knifepoint by the very Omega you were trying to intimidate. In front of half the Continental.

“Now your wealth and your status gives you a certain degree of anonymity when it comes to such things" John continues, "and the people in New York respect that. But it would be a shame if it reached your Uncle, the way you threatened a sweet, harmless Omega, only to flee from the scene when she pulled a knife.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“At the moment, I’m threatening you. With blackmail. I could kill you but, frankly, I don’t want to deal with the backlash.”

Viggo has turned red and has tensed up immensely. “This puts us in a difficult position, John.”

“Indeed, it does.” John agrees.

“You want out and you cannot break a contract witnessed by the High Table.”

“But I can be released from a contract at any time. And I assure you, Viggo, I am getting out.”

Viggo considers this. “I could not… simply let you out of a contract. It would appear too weak. Perhaps, you could perform a favor for me and we could simply call it… even. It may seem a little daunting, but if anyone could accomplish it, it would be you.”

John inclines his head. “What do you have in mind?”

Viggo drums his fingers on his desk, “It’s a bit of an impossible task…”


End file.
